


Merry Everything & A Happy Always

by Jazz_2_chess



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Christmas Fluff, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pack Dad Derek Hale, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, soft Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazz_2_chess/pseuds/Jazz_2_chess
Summary: Because it’s Christmas and things usually don’t go over smoothly, let’s add spirits and monsters to the mix, sprinkle some feelings over it, stir the pot and let it cool down, so that maybe Stiles and Derek can stop their pining and kiss under the mistletoe.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 12
Kudos: 362





	1. Accident

_“Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently- just like love.”_

The first day of December and Stiles already felt like the rope in a game of tug and war. He had, for some unfathomable reason, decided to help Derek host Christmas this year at his house.

Which wasn’t a bad thing- at least in theory.

What _was_ a bad thing however, was the amount of calls he had gotten in the last two hours.

Two from Scott asking frantically for advice on what to get Allison and Isaac.

One from Isaac asking the same exact question about Allison and Scott.

Three from Jackson which had included a lot of swearing on both ends, two furious call-backs and one clipped conclusion.

Five calls from Derek in various states of stressed that had ranged from mild to I-will-rip-your-throat-out, thankfully, the with-my-teeth part had been excluded.

And one from Lydia, who had calmly told him that she expected not only a giant tree, but colour-coordinated ornaments in red and gold.

In short: Stiles was currently standing in the middle of the mall on Saturday afternoon, five bags in each hand, the phone squished between his shoulder and his face, thinking to himself: Australia’s a good destination to travel to this winter.

* * *

Two hours and one nervous break-down later, Stiles finally reached the new pack house. On the drive up, his mind wandered back to the day, Derek had made his decision to buy a new house for them all. Stiles had seen the beginning of a smile on the wolf’s face. It had been the first time, he had thought of Derek as beautiful.

Hot he had always been, but the idea of having a home, a real one, where his new family could join him, had lit his face up in a way Stiles hadn’t ever seen before. It had enhanced his features, had softened the rough edges around his eyes.

Present-Derek opened the door for him before he had reached the porch.

“I could have come with you…” Derek chided while he lifted the burden that were ten bags from Stiles’ shoulders- or arms actually, but that was semantics.

“Right, I totally forgot, you love Christmas shopping and masses of people. how stupid of me,” Derek rolled his eyes at him before wandering into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, Sourwolf. I can handle a little shopping on my own…”

The whole point in helping Derek was to spare him from having to do certain things, like Christmas shopping.

“Besides, I didn’t even get half of our list. So, I’mma have to do the rest next week.” He shuddered at the thought alone. This had been literal hell and the prospect at having to throw himself in there once more was beyond unpleasant. If he got hit on the head by another dad carrying a large parcel for his son, he would break something.

“You want me to go with you?” Stiles ached to say yes. But the nerves easily perceptible in Derek’s voice held him back.

So, he yelled a short “Nah!” towards the kitchen and went up the stairs.

Derek joined him after putting away the groceries, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. Stiles felt Derek’s eyes on him while he displayed each item he had gotten on the bed, but he didn’t turn around. He continued to work in silence, wrapping up a necklace for Lydia and sorting through ten boxes of mixed sweets to put one together for Isaac that had only his favourites in it.

Sometimes, Derek would give his input. 

“I like the purple for Allison.” And Stiles would reach for the purple wrapping paper.

“I can help, you know?” Derek offered and this time, Stiles did turn around.

“Like last year?” Even from his place on the bed, he saw the red tinge in Derek’s cheeks. It was adorable.

“If I remember correctly, you managed to not only put tape all around yourself but in your hair and on the couch-“ he flailed his arms in an attempt to demonstrate, voice outraged.

“The couch, Derek!”

“It wouldn’t peel off!”

“So you put it on the couch?” He couldn’t help the incredulous tone, even though they had had a similar discussion precisely at that day last year.

“Yes!” Derek barked out, but it lacked heat. The grin that lingered around his lips made his eyes crinkle and Stiles had trouble breathing normally. He liked spending time with Derek like this, because they enjoyed each other’s company and not because they were running for their lives. They did that often enough as it was.

“Isaac’ll be home in an hour,” Derek stated as if there was some hidden meaning behind it that Stiles couldn’t decipher. He did that a lot of the time actually, saying something and staring at Stiles with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. He called me when I was out.” Derek nodded but it felt off. Stiles couldn’t help thinking he had disappointed him somehow. He and Scott had talked about this before and hadn’t come to a conclusion, so, instead of pondering over it, he let it go. Which wasn’t his usual modus operandi but his mind had already jumped to the next topic.

“It was actually kinda hilarious. I got a call from Scott asking me what he should get Allison and Isaac for Christmas- and, I kid you not- five minutes later Isaac called and asked the same damn thing-” Stiles smirked when Derek raised a brow.

“Well, you know- not the same thing but like…” His hands formed a complicated gesture that would have cost him a win at charades because it was frankly incomprehensible, but hey, Derek seemed to understand either way, so, there was that.

“What did you tell him- them?” Derek made an expression as if he was trying to solve a puzzle in his head, evidently fed up with his inability to express himself at the moment.

“Isaac,” he settled on “What did you tell Isaac?”

“That he has 24 days left to think of something and that I’m not playing secret Santa for him,” Stile stilled, silently horrified.

“That sounded wrong.”

Derek nodded furiously, biting his lip, his cheeks flushed. Stiles’ mind briefly betrayed him by showing him a string of scandalous images of Derek clad in nothing but a red Santa-hat. He shook himself, blushed up to his hair tips and stared his hands.

Hopefully, Derek wouldn’t call him out on that burst of arousal. After what felt like a safe timespan, Stiles took a chance and glanced up at Derek, who hadn’t moved an inch. Stiles thought to himself that he made a pretty picture, all amused and relaxed and at ease with himself.

“You think we’ll have a- ahm quiet Christmas this year?” Maybe he could have phrased that better but since that incident two years ago, when pixies had crashed Lydia’s party, he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. He was a humble guy and didn’t wish for much, just for a quiet evening with the people he loved, was that too much to ask?

Meanwhile, Derek contemplated for a short moment and then tentatively nodded.

“Let’s hope so, Big Guy…” Stiles smiled at him, a little too love-sickly if he was honest, but he couldn’t help it.

“Hey did you ever get word back on that office party thingy?” Derek shook his head.

“I’ll ask around on Monday. Maybe it got lost in the mail…” which wasn’t unlikely as far out of town as Derek lived now. The postman hadn’t even made it here all that often since Derek had moved in. Stiles hoped the invite had really gotten lost somewhere. Derek had been a bit stricken when his colleagues all had received an invitation but he hadn’t.

The sour mood was broken when Derek said:

“Isaac’s here…” visibly perking up. In that exact moment, the aforementioned wolf came barrelling through the door with the momentum of a hurricane.

“Stiles!” Huh. Maybe he shouldn’t have shrugged Isaac’s cry for help off so easily. Seeking cover behind Derek’s back, Stiles peeked over his shoulder.

“I just spend an hour and a half listening to a saleslady asking me the width of Allison’s bras and if I have to look at one more laced top I swear to go I will rip your throat out!”

Derek shared a look with Stiles, raised a brow and they both dissolved into hysteric giggles.

“That’s not funny!” Isaac protested with his bottom lip sticking out. For all his efforts at putting up an angry front, he perfected the image of a pouty cherub rather flawlessly. And on top of that, suing that particular threat, especially, if you were not Derek Hale and constantly brooding, didn’t work as well as Isaac had probably hoped it would have.

Derek chuckled and reached out to ruffle Isaac’s hair.

“Stop it! It’s not funny!” God, he was such a puppy.

“Sorry, pup,” Derek’s smile hadn’t vanished but he put up a good enough earnest façade to placate Isaac.

“I have no idea what to get them and I can’t sort through any more underwear, Derek.” And now Stiles felt himself sympathetic. He could relate to that after having been dragged to the mall by every girl in the pack and Jackson. Which hadn’t been fun for either of them, yet the wolf still insisted he’d be joined by Stiles whenever he needed input.

“Come on, Stiles bought the cake you like,” ah, yes. Stiles had nearly forgotten. A voice in his head that he loved to bits at the moment, had insisted on buying the cake he knew Isaac loved.

Hindsight was 20/20 after all.

After Isaac had munched down four slices of cake, he leaned back and- with a little less bite and a little more desperation- told them about his hellish shopping trip. Stiles took a second for himself to wonder why both of them had decided to go shopping this early and on a Saturday. He didn’t really have an answer other than being pressured by media to get his errands done early since the later in the December he did them, the worse the malls would be.

“So, you wanted to get her underwear for Christmas?”

“Do you know what price tags they put on those things? That’s like two pay checks for a piece of lace. She doesn’t want to waste money on it so, I thought I could get it for her, you know?

Because she always says the quality is better and that she likes the way it makes her feel.”

That- that was not the reason Stiles had thought Isaac would want to get Allison underwear. He might have cooed a little.

“That’s very considerate of you…” Derek seemed just as shocked if the expression on his face was anything to go by.

“But I couldn’t- the saleslady asked me to pick a colour and they all looked the same to me and I couldn’t think about this anymore…”

“Why didn’t you ask Lydia?”

Two pairs of eyes stared at Stiles like he had just ignited a wildfire in their heads. Why Derek had that particular look, Stiles wasn’t sure. But all rational thought flew right out of the window, when a grin slowly spread on Isaac’s lips and before Stiles knew it, he found himself engulfed in a hug that made breathing difficult.

Isaac excused himself after that, already dialling Lydia’s number while leaving the room. Derek smirked and Stiles took a wild guess that Lydia’s answer had been something scolding. God, he loved their pack.

Derek sucked in a sharp breath then, that made Stiles look up in concern.

“Everything alright there, Sourwolf?”

Derek’s eyes narrowed before he wrinkled his nose and sniffed the air.

“Dude- what the hell?” 

“That smell…” Derek stepped closer in that menacing way of his and Stiles- completely out of instinct- stepped back. From the outside, it must have looked like a tango.

“Keep still!” Derek barked out, arms closing around Stiles’ biceps and keeping him in place. Stiles’ heart made a valid attempt at action out the beat of a humming-bird.

Meanwhile, Derek leaned in close and sniffed again. He resembled a dog so much in that moment that Stiles couldn’t suppress the hysteric giggle. The wolf didn’t comment, probably so used to Stiles’ weird habits that it didn’t faze him.

A blinding smile spread on Derek’s face when he stepped back, obviously having figured out whatever had had him so on edge before. Stiles must have had an expression of utter confusion on his face, because Derek kindly elaborated on what the fuck was going on.

“Content.” he said “you smell content.”

“Ah.”

What?

“I couldn’t make it out before because it was muddled up with anxiety and cinnamon…”

Yeah, Stiles would smell like that, wouldn’t he, when his head continued to switch gears every five minutes. A little anxiety was almost his default mode.

“But when Isaac hugged you, it vanished. And I wanted to make sure. Sorry.”

Aww and now Derek sounded sheepish, even shuffling his feet. Stiles detected the tips of his bunny teeth and broke out into a grin.

“That’s so sweet Derbear. Didn’t know you had it in you.” He felt like teasing just to ease the sudden tension this conversation had taken on. Sarcasm was always a safe retreat. And he hadn’t even been lying. Who knew Derek could be such a softie?

Well, _Stiles_ knew but it was still a rare sight that Derek felt comfortable enough to really indulge himself into letting his guards down like this.   
Before he could dive too deep into his appreciation and respect for the person Derek had become through all of the things that had haunted and hunted them, he quickly thought of something else.

His mind was still on the fence between finishing his assignment for university or watching a movie, when Isaac came back into the room with a huge grin on his face.

“Lydia’s coming over in two days to help me pick something out.”

“That’s great,” Derek said like he meant it. Stiles had no doubt that he did. Isaac, after all, meant a lot to the Alpha- to all of them.

Derek suddenly addressed him.

“Did you get all of your presents?”

“Nope.” he popped the “p” obnoxiously just to see Isaac scowl at him. It was always an adorable sight. Silence filled the room and Stiles couldn’t help but think that Derek had wanted to follow up his question but had evidently decided against it, for some reason or other.

They had such moments rather often, where Derek would say something and then not going through with it. But then again, maybe Stiles just saw things that weren’t there. Wouldn’t be the first time, he had projected his feelings onto some innocent bystander.

Oh, Stiles didn’t kid himself.

Derek had never even indicated that he liked Stiles as more than a friend. But sometimes, when Derek would ask him something or behave in a certain way, that small flutter of hope reared its ugly head. Stiles refused to let it grow too much. Derek wasn’t even into men and he sure as hell wasn’t into Stiles.

The only thing he indeed was, was bad with words, which certainly explained all those weird situations that had gotten more frequent in the last year or so.

* * *

Stiles had had better days, that much should be emphasised before he continued reasoning why it was that he was currently kicking the tires of the Jeep- which had gone flat- all four of them. And Stiles was slowly, but surely, losing his temper.

Roscoe, his sweet, sweet ride, had decided to give up on him in the middle of the road. Maybe, he should have changed tires but then again, that much snowfall in such a short amount of time had never been a regularity in Beacon Hills.

Also, did it have to be all four tires?

Really?

Sometimes, he really thought the universe had it out for him, otherwise those “inconveniences” wouldn’t continue to happen.

It also explained, why the first number he had dialled was a certain Alpha’s.

“I’m in the middle of the road in the freezing cold. There’s fucking snow everywhere. My Jeep won’t move an inch because all four tires are flat and I don’t even have gloves! Gloves, Derek! My fingers are gonna turn blue and fall off! I don’t want to have no fingers! I can’t do sudokus without my fingers!” He heaved a breath, air fogging in front of his mouth.

“Stiles?” Okay, maybe he should have prefaced his rant with a disclaimer, stating that he was- to contrary popular belief- not in mortal danger, but then again, he hadn’t really thought Derek would be worried. Even though, worried was kind of Derek’s second nature. Not that he didn’t have a right to that. Stiles felt, if anyone had, it would be Derek.

“Can you come pick me up?” he added a half-frustrated, half-desperate “please” at the end.

“I’m- Stiles, I’m really sorry, but I- I can’t right now…” Some commotion was audible in the background that sounded an awful lot like a restaurant, then a distinctly female voice piped up and asked Derek- by his name- if he was ready to choose.

Stiles’ mind immediately flashed alarm signs at him. Derek never told anyone his first name, ever. Because he was as paranoid as they came and thought everyone was out to get him. But that woman on the other end of the line, knew his name. Stiles realised quickly what exactly he must have interrupted.

“Yeah no…” he trailed off, throat tight. If Derek was on a date, he didn’t want to intrude.

“Stil-”

“Have fun,” Stiles croaked out before Derek could feel guilty enough to drive out here. And the idiot would, Stiles just knew it. His heart broke a little more. If Derek was still the asshole Stiles had met in the woods six years ago, then this stupid crush wouldn’t have developed into such intense feelings.

To stop the incoming avalanche of emotions, he quickly dialled Scott’s number and focussed entirely on his voice to blank out everything else.

“Can you come get me?”

“Sure. Send me the coordinates?” Sometimes, it was so, so simple. Stiles heard Scott jump into his car, heard the motor start and the horn when Scott leaned on it accidentally.

“Shit. Sorry. I have another jacket in my car from Isaac, if you’re cold.”

There it was. There was every reason why Scott had remained Stiles’ best friend over the years. Even though, they had had their rough patches, Scott had gotten his priorities straight.

The few tears that had fallen since he had hung up on Derek, had dried by the time Scott pulled up.

He didn’t ask any question even though Stiles saw him throw glances in his direction, ranging from confused to concerned. Stiles hoped Boyd would be available to help him with Roscoe, once he gotten hold of him. He trusted the wolf to be careful with his car and it wasn’t like he could ask Derek. Not when he was obviously on a date.

Aaaaand the pain in his chest settled back in. Scott opened his mouth, saw Stiles’ jaw clench and closed it again. But the worried expression didn’t fade from his face until Isaac opened the front door of the McCall house for them.

“Is everything alright? Where’s the Jeep?” Scott motioned for Isaac to drop it and even let Stiles have the last chocolate doughnut.

It helped only marginally.

* * *

Things were tense after that and the whole of the pack took the brunt of it. Stiles, while trying not to let his feelings overwhelm him, had decided the best way to do so, was by avoiding Derek at every turn. Which then made Derek retreat back into himself in a way that had everyone on edge.

Scott and Isaac complained to Stiles that Derek had stepped up the training schedule. Not that that was unusual. Whenever Stiles and Derek had a disagreement, Stiles turned into a hermit and Derek took out his anger on the pack by running them into the ground with training. Lydia came over and tried to talk him into having it out with Derek but quickly conceded when Stiles told her what had happened.

“That doesn’t mean, it was a date.”

“Then why did she know his name? Also, I heard plates clanging in the background.”

“I still don’t think-”

“Why not? It’s been ages since his last one. I know, because I kept count!” Maybe he should feel embarrassed about admitting it, but he didn’t. The whole pack knew about his Derek-shaped crush. And pitied him for it, surely.

“I just don’t see him casually dating without telling the pack…” Ah, Lydia’s logic, there it was.

“No? So, if, say, he wasn’t sure about her but still wanted to try, he’d totally tell us? ‘s that what you’re saying?”

She shrugged, deflating a little.

“You could just talk to him. At least, then you’d know…”

“You really don’t get it, do you?” his tone was a bit too harsh, he knew, but the ache in his chest had morphed into a full-blown pain and he needed an outlet.

“What if he tells me, I’m right, hm? What do I do then? Because he’ll smell it on me, the second I step into his house.” He had won the argument, that much was evident in the way Lydia wouldn’t meet his eyes. When she left him half an hour later, she pulled him into a hug and whispered into his shoulder:

“I hope you’re wrong. But if you’re not, just know that he’s an idiot and not worth any tears.”

If her voice was the only thing keeping him from having another break-down, nobody had to know.

* * *

A week went by without further incident. Well, if you didn’t count Erica complaining to Stiles on the phone that her everything hurt and that he was a coward for ditching them, especially around Christmas. She almost managed to bully him into coming over.

Instead, he went for a grocery run, which was long overdue.

He should have known that a week successfully avoiding Derek was stretching his luck. Therefore, he shouldn’t have been surprised when his cart connected with another right when he turned a corner. That Derek was attached to the other cart really was just the cherry on top.

“Uh.” Stiles greeted him, cheeks flushing unpleasantly. Derek looked as uncomfortable as Stiles himself and refused to meet Stiles’ eyes.

“I-” the Alpha hesitated “tomatoes.”

He held up the bag of tomatoes as if to say: look, I’m not stalking you again.

Which wouldn’t have been the first time. But then again, it usually happened when Derek had said something particularly hurtful and Stiles had run out of the house like hell was on his heels.

This time, Derek didn’t even know what he’d done wrong- because he essentially hadn’t. So, he hadn’t come knocking on Stiles’ door grovelling and asking for forgiveness. Stiles was glad. He knew blaming Derek for his own broken heart was not fair.

Upon realising that they were blocking the aisle, Stiles let Derek pass, every fibre in him screaming to say something, to make this right and man up.

He refrained.

And watched Derek’s hunched shoulders walk back to the vegetable section. Stiles couldn’t help the wave of guilt flooding his system. He didn’t like the silence nor the distance between them but as long as his crush was not sufficiently dealt with, he couldn’t risk stepping closer.

Derek didn’t deserve this.

And if he had a new girlfriend, Stiles should be happy for him.

He just needed a bit of time to get there.

* * *

It came to a head when Erica and Jackson marched into Stiles’ living room, claws at the ready and eyes gleaming. Stiles’ hand automatically shot out to his bat, ready to fight whoever was after them, when he realised, they were closing in on him. He barely had time to hold out his hands and ask what was wrong, when he was hauled into Jackson’s Porsche.

“What the hell? Are you insane?” his arm accidentally hit Erica in the shoulder and he wasn’t the least bit sorry.

“You know what? Scratch that! You obviously are, otherwise you wouldn’t have- I don’t know- _kidnapped_ me!” The pitch of his voice had reached eardrum shattering heights. Jackson winced on the driver’s seat and hit the gas more forcefully.

“Seriously! Jackson, stop the damn car!”

“No!”

“Why the hell not? This is bullshit!”

“No. You’re coming with us and you’re having a talk with him, even if I have to drag you in there myself, Stilinski!”

Erica growled menacingly beside him. Stiles huffed out a breath, rolled his eyes and leaned back, arms crossed over his chest.

“Don’t you dare think this won’t have consequences!” and if he sounded like a mother-hen, he couldn’t care less. They behaved like brats. And he wouldn’t stand for that.

He also didn’t miss the murmured “worth it” from Erica. 

The car pulled up at the Hale house and Stiles’ insides immediately clenched. He felt like vomiting right onto Erica’s- undoubtedly expansive- shoes.

Derek already waited at the door when Jackson physically pulled Stiles out of the car. Stiles noticed that Derek’s mouth was a thin line, that his shoulders held a tension he hadn’t seen in forever and that his posture screamed: defence.

All of a sudden, it occurred to Stiles that maybe Derek was mad at him- which he had every right to be but it was not something Stiles had prepared himself for. He attempted to make a run for it, but Erica held him back by the hood of his jacket.

“Uhm…” he hated the silence spreading between them before he worked up the balls to even greet Derek properly.

“Hi, Derek.”

Derek raised a brow but didn’t say anything back. He did step aside, however, to let Stiles in. When Jackson moved as if to follow him, Derek shook his head and shut the door in his face.

Stiles- even without enhanced wolf-hearing- heard Erica and Jackson growl in indignation but his brain was too preoccupied with finding stupid excuses for his absence to care.

“I’m sorry,” was what he blurted out after neither of them spoke for what felt like eternity. Derek frowned but didn’t say anything, so, Stiles, fuelled by panic and hurt and embarrassment, continued in a haste.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you or hang up or be such an asshole. You don’t deserve it and I should have just talked to you. And I’d completely understand if you want to kick me out because you always come when I call and I didn’t mean to be such an ass about it. I know you have a life outside the pack and that’s a good thing and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be free to come get me and I’m sorry if I interrupted-”

Derek’s eyes had gotten continuously wider the more Stiles word vomited. Finally, he put up a hand as if to stop the onslaught of information.

“That’s what this is about?” Stiles refused to let himself think of Derek’s apparent confusion as adorable. It didn’t work.

“Yeah? I mean, I really don’t have a leg to stand on here. I shouldn’t have hung up and I’m really sorry for- for the last week, dude.” If he put “dude” at the end, he didn’t feel so vulnerable.

 _Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night_ , Stiles’ unconscious viciously chided.

Derek stared at him, stared, continued to stare, stared even harder. And just when Stiles was about to comment, he burst into laughter.

“Glad you find all of this so funny…” he muttered, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice. He just prayed, Derek wouldn’t pick up on it.

“It’s not-” Derek wheezed, tears in his eyes.

“It’s not,” he repeated once he had calmed down.

“I just thought you were mad at me and I nearly cracked my head open trying to figure out what I’d done…” and now this had taken a sad turn and the guilt in swept back into Stiles’ stomach.

“And what do you mean: interrupted? You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Okay, Lydia was right, being lied to hurt definitely more than hearing it from Derek’s mouth.

“You can tell me, you know? I know why you couldn’t come pick me up,” he banned the hurt from his voice. At least, as best as he could. Confusion once again took hold of Derek’s expression.

“What are you talking about?” Derek’s voice held a barely concealed edge

“You were busy- when I called. That’s why you couldn’t come pick me up…” It almost seemed as if Derek was talking about something completely different.

“I was,” Derek admitted with a sudden pink tinge to his cheeks, his stance changing from worried to something a little more relaxed “but I don’t see why that is such a big deal?”

“Because we’re your pack. You can tell us when you’re dating somebody!” Stiles couldn’t help it. He just blurted it out. The minute, the words left his mouth, he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Which it, bastard that it was, refused.

“Dating somebody? Stiles- I’m not- I’m not dating anybody…”

“Then why did she call you by your name, Derek? Hm? I know you’re a very private person and that’s perfectly fine but we’re your pack and we’re happy for you and you shouldn’t feel like you need to hide-” His heart skipped a beat and he saw Derek’s eyes flicker to his chest. However, the wolf didn’t call him out, simply found Stiles’ eyes again and scratched his head.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Derek protested and when Stiles opened his mouth to launch into another argument, he quickly continued.

“I’m also not dating anybody.”

“Then why did she know your first name?” It had been eating at Stiles ever since hearing her use it.

“Because she was helping me pick out presents.” Derek stated.

Silence followed.

Okay. Maybe- just maybe Stiles had slightly overreacted. He shuffled his feet, a burn on his cheeks, he wished desperately to cool.

“Oh.”

“Can we-” Derek wasn’t faring any better apparently, if the tips of his ears had any say in the matter.

“Can we stop avoiding each other now?”

God, did he have to be so soft? Stiles could barely handle hot Derek. How was he supposed to survive an adorable one?

“Sorry,” he offered even though it didn’t even begin to describe how bad he felt about having ignored Derek because he had been unreasonably- and unnecessarily- jealous. His brain suddenly opened the flood gates so that about a million ideas on how to better this situation made up each and every room he had to think straight. In the end, what came out, was:

“Do you want to have dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah. I can uh- I can get some groceries and make you pasta? Or steak if you want to? We can order in if you don’t like that. I can-”

A hand pressed against Stiles’ mouth- not that it really did much to stop him from talking but the sentiment registered.

 _“_ We can get groceries together,” Derek suggested, almost shyly, his eyes looking at everything but Stiles.

Meanwhile, Stiles nodded frantically against Derek’s hand, glad that he hadn’t fucked up their relationship beyond repair by being inappropriately jealous.  
_  
_

* * *

They happened to stroll through the veggie aisle, coincidentally the place of their last meeting, when Stiles noticed the people around them behaving oddly. He nudged Derek with his elbow and gestured towards the woman eating gingerbread straight out of the box.

“What-” Derek didn’t get to finish his question because that was the moment someone ran into him with the force of a stampede. It knocked Derek over, which was probably more because he had been caught off guard and less because of the man’s strength. Stiles, intrigued as ever, to say the least, followed the guy with his eyes through the aisles.

The guy pulled out two packages of toilet paper under the precariously stacked tower and watched with undisguised glee as it toppled and fell. Another man pulled labels from products or switched them out, laughing manically while he was at it.

“This isn’t normal, right? I’m not seeing things…” Stiles asked in a low tone, incredulous to what his own eyes were showing him. But Derek nodded confirmation, a frown firmly placed on his forehead.

“What are they doing?”

The million-dollar question.

Now deputies started filling the store, arresting people and reassuring customers that they had it under control.

“You think that’s just Christmas nerves?” Derek asked out of the corner of his mouth with the tone of someone who knew damn well that the question was redundant.

“Nope.”

“Any idea what might be behind this?”

Stiles shook his head, meticulously scanning the aisles for a creature of some sorts, a demon perhaps or simply something that didn’t fit in. If he squinted, he could make out a faint purple smoke, but every time, he tried to focus, it evaded closer inspection.

“Smells odd in here,” Derek commented and confirmed Stiles’ suspicion that an unknown entity had wreaked havoc in here.

“Let’s go,” he urged Derek on until they were safely tucked into the Camaro and driving back to the house.

“It’s probably nothing…” Derek tried to reason, but the tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased once since stepping out of the store. Stiles kept his thoughts to himself for the same reason Derek probably did. He just hoped, with all his might, that this had been a one-time occurrence, nothing dangerous or worrisome.

He was fatally wrong.  
  


* * *

Nightmares had plagued Stiles for hours on end, so, when morning came, his mood was worse than last night and he hated sunbeams with a scathing passion. That didn’t deter his Dad from delivering less than desirable news.

“I’m heading out, kiddo. There’s a body in the morgue and eggs in the fridge.” With that hell of a good morning, his father left him in his confused stupor.

It took him about five minutes to realise, he should have stayed in bed. At first, he nearly broke his neck by slipping on the rug and diving head-first down the stairs, which ended in a bloodied nose, bandaged wrists and a split lip.

Then, he burnt his toast, ruined the cookies he’d been trying to make, after his mum’s recipe and spilled juice all over his favourite shirt.

The shower turned out to be a hazard to his health, first the slippery tiles and then the razor that had fallen out of his hands when he had tried to place it somewhere, he wouldn’t cut himself. After drying himself, he proceeded to cautiously walk to the post-box to see that two of his Christmas presents for his Dad would be delayed until further notice.

Scott called to say Deaton needed his help and he couldn’t make it and then Isaac cancelled because he had so much work to do.

Stiles decided then, to sit down and write Christmas cards- nothing harmful in that, right?

Wrong.

He managed to rip two of them so far. The last one, was the one for Derek and he had managed half of it in decent handwriting when suddenly, his hand slipped and ink spilled over the whole of the card.

Stiles’ insides clenched painfully while he tried in a desperate attempt to clean up the mess and safe the card. It didn’t work in the slightest.

Stiles snapped.

Why did those things always happen to him, hu? Didn’t he deserve for something, anything, to go right today?

Fuck.

He knew, he was overreacting, but his breath continued to come in short puffs, his eyes burned, started to water until his sight was blurry. He ripped the Christmas card in two and was on his feet before he could think twice about it.

Without shoes and only clad in a t-shirt, he grabbed an axe and made his way out of the door.

He had promised his Dad to cut down the Christmas tree today- with Scott’s help- but still and he would be damned if he couldn’t even do that. The cold didn’t register, neither did the wind. Within ten minutes, he found a tree that looked good enough to him. The axe trembled in his hands- its weight heavier than Stiles had anticipated. He didn’t care and hit the tree with all the strength he could muster.

The hit didn’t so much as make it shake, snow trickle down from it. Stiles’ brain short-circuited, anger blinding him with unknown intensity. In his peripheral, he thought, he’d seen something flash but he didn’t pay attention, blindsided by the rage clouding his vision.

Fuck this!

He would cut down this stupid ass tree no matter what!

“Stiles?” a sudden voice rang to his left.

He vaguely realised it was Isaac, who should be nose deep in homework, but didn’t particularly care. All of the things that went wrong today made him spiral out of control, deeper and deeper into a swirl of self-deprecation because he couldn’t even do one thing right, frustration, desperation and an overall overwhelming feeling of having failed something important.

“Can we.”

He hit the tree with the axe hard enough for the treetop to shake.

“For once.”

Another hit.

“Have a normal.”

Another.

“Goddamn.”

One more.

“Christmas?”

“Stiles.” Boyd’s deep rumble sounded to his right. He didn’t stop until he felt a firm grip on his shoulder.

“That’s enough.” The axe was unceremoniously pulled out of his fingers and given to Isaac, who looked at it with disdain. Stiles tried discreetly to wipe the wetness off his face.

“Come on,” Boyd guided him to the car with a hand on his back that radiated heat through his cotton shirt. He hadn’t realised how cold he was until now. Without a word, Boyd shrugged out of his jacket and helped Stiles put it on.

“Thanks…” he mumbled. Inside his head, a thousand voices taunted him for having been so stupid to run out in the cold like this. Now, Boyd had to help him about because he’d been inconsiderate enough to run into the woods in the freezing cold so that the wolves had to come save him.

Again.

“You smell wrong,” Isaac said in a low voice, once they had gotten seated in Boyd’s car. Erica put on some Christmas music and talked to Boyd in a soft voice. Stiles didn’t have anything to say to Isaac, so, he shrugged his shoulders and stared straight ahead.

“And you’re cold,” the wolf complained with a pout, but despite that, snuggled closer. Stiles felt a tug at his heart and a little of his anger and frustration fell off of him.

By the time, they reached Derek’s house, Stiles was still shivering, despite the heat in the car being turned on to the max. Allison opened the door, much to Stiles’ surprise, and immediately wrapped him up in a blanket.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” the huntress scolded him, her arms pulling him into a hug that felt warmer than the blanket and jacket combined.

“Stiles?” Derek sat on the couch and didn’t make any attempt at standing up. Stiles noticed Lydia’s watchful eye on the Alpha and couldn’t help but think he’d missed something.

“You were right,” Boyd said from the hallway. He had run upstairs to get Stiles a hoodie that he had stored in Derek’s cabinet.

“He’s infected too.”

And now they were talking about him as if he wasn’t there. So, Stiles inserted himself into the consideration with a little more bite than was probably necessary.

“I’m here, you know? So, maybe you should tell me what I’m suddenly infected with and not have ominous conversations with Derek about it.”

Boyd didn’t take the bait and executed such an overall calm that Stiles instantly felt bad.

“Something is going round town…” Stiles barely suppressed the need to roll his eyes. As if he hadn’t noticed that just yesterday when half the store had lost its marbles.

“People either behave like absolute assholes, like we saw yesterday, or they can’t even get one thing right…” Derek spoke out of experience, Stiles could tell. It was enough for his anger to be subdued, at least a fraction.

“That’s what the purple smoke was.”

He could have hit himself. How could he have gone to bed without researching what that had been? But then again, maybe this thing had some sort of shielding ability. Stiles vaguely remembered trying to get a closer look and being averted each time.

“Purple smoke?” Lydia suddenly ran out of the room as if a horde of bees was after her. The others simply shrugged their shoulders.

“Where’s Jackson by the way?” The absence of the wolf got to Stiles in a way he didn’t like. They had bonded over time and Stiles felt safer when he was around. All that bite turned out to be good for something after all. And once Stiles had changed course from Lydia to Derek, Jackson had begun to soften around him, going so far as to having dinner once a week.

“Did some shopping out of town yesterday evening. I told him to stay at a motel for tonight.” Ah, that was certainly for the best, knowing Jackson and his temper.

Lydia chose that moment to return, with that usual air of superiority and a flick of her hair. She placed a book in Stiles’ lap and told him in no unspecific terms what would happen to his well-being if he ripped even one page.

Meanwhile, Allison had walked out of the living room to call her Dad, most probably getting more intel.

Isaac manned the computer while Boyd and Derek looked through two other bestiaries. Lydia helped Stiles find the section she so obviously wanted him to find.

The gears in Stiles’ head turned while he was extra-careful not to rip the page he was reading. This had to be the solution to the puzzle and he’d be damned if he didn’t end this before Christmas.

They did have a week left but he wouldn’t let it come even close to destroying the pack’s Christmas Derek had worked so hard on preparing.

“The trickster spirit”, he read out loud, “is a well-known myth amongst the supernatural community. It can manifest as a coyote or a raven and is often harmless. However, if crossed, the spirit can turn viscous in its pranks,” he paused, stared up at Derek with a sudden gleam in his eyes.

“That’s gotta be it.”  
“Does it mention how to get rid of it?” That Derek wanted the spirit gone just as badly was evident in the way his fangs elongated.

“You can pack those away, for now, Sourwolf. We just need to summon and exorcise it.”

“Like in Supernatural?” Isaac piped up, a bit too excited for Stiles’ taste. They had dealt with so many monsters already that they could take on a trickster spirit without the help of a Winchester, thank you very much.

Although, a little help with the correct exorcism couldn’t hurt, now that he thought about it. So, he called one of his buddies abroad that he had met at one of the pack mixers Deaton had advised Derek on partaking in.

In the matter of five minutes, they were in the possession on not only a decent exorcism formula, but also a list of ingredients for summoning a trickster spirit.

Scott, who had been added to their conversation via smartphone, volunteered to provide the feathers of a dead bird and fur from a black cat and Erica shouldered the burden of asking for “blood of the dead” at the morgue.

According to the blonde “she knew a guy” and everyone in the room resolutely refrained from asking her about it. When she returned, her face was grim. She rehashed the information that had been given to her at the morgue, namely, that two bodies in there were due to pranks played on them. Stiles felt the anger rise in him and he urged Scott via text to hurry.

The sooner they got rid of the spirit, the better.

An hour later, they had all necessary ingredients at the ready and were waiting for Stiles’ instructions.

“He can bend reality, don’t forget that,” Stiles warned them after they had assembled in a circle.

Lydia stepped forward and drew a delicate pentagram in which the spirit should appear if all went according to plan. The second, she closed it, blood still smeared on her fingers, something popped and the smell of sulphur of all things filled their noses. Scott, to Stiles’ right, looked as if an asthma attack had kicked in. 

“The wolves. What a pleasure!” The spirit- it did have the appearance of a coyote- announced, bouncing almost excitedly on the balls of its feet.

“You know us?” Scott asked perplexed.

“Oh but of course, of course. You’re the Alpha and that’s your human,” a smile full of mischief formed on the coyote’s lips. It gave the spirit an edge of danger that didn’t sit well with any of them.

“Such fun, such fun, I had with you.”

“Why are you here? Why us?” Lydia cut in, voice dry and full of a threat that the spirit shook off as if it was nothing.

“Oh, but Beacon Hills I always wanted to visit. It is a beacon after all. So easy, so delicious.” Stiles had read that tricksters fed off chaos. Must have been a feast for the guy, he thought to himself.

“And then I spied with my little eye, a wolf and his human and I just couldn’t resist.” 

“What about the two people your pranks killed, huh?” Isaac barked out, teeth long and not really human anymore. Stiles couldn’t fault him for it and was secretly proud to see the wolf portray such a confident stance.

“Ah but that wasn’t my fault, you see? I never told them to kill anyone.”

“No, you just set them up, that’s all.”

The trickster nodded, once more exuding absolute glee at the idea of having caused such a hassle. But human life was not a hassle and none of the pack would stand for it to be risked by a trickster or anyone else that came to their town with dark intentions.

“That’s all?” Derek predictably was this close to losing his control. Stiles reached out discreetly, to put a hand on his arm, just in case Derek needed an anchor that wasn’t anger.

“You endangered my pack. You wreaked havoc in my town. You killed two citizens. And you think you’ll walk out of here alive?”

Derek had gotten bigger the longer he talked, as if his anger increased his height. His fangs had elongated so much they were garbling his speech. Red bled into his eyes, making them shine with bloody intensity.

For the first time, Stiles noticed the trickster to shed his façade of being unbothered by the situation.

“There is no need for violence. It was just a harmless prank, you see?”

“Well, too bad asshole!” Stiles snarled from the side-line and gave Lydia the signal. She immediately started reciting the Latin formula, not the least bit concerned when the spirit’s face turned sour. Stiles felt more than saw reality bend around them.

Dread doctors, Kanima, Gerard Argent, Kate, all of them appeared at once, attacking as if on a loop. The pack stood their ground, unwavering even while being bombarded with images of the past.

Stiles had anticipated it but it still took a toll on him when he saw himself with the Nogitsune shining through his eyes. He forced himself to focus on Lydia’s voice still reciting Latin without pause.

She didn’t open her eyes, not even when claws buried themselves deep in her chest, an imitation of Peter’s attack on her.

She closed with the word of God and daylight shone on them again.

The pentagram was broken in the middle, as if it hadn’t been able to withhold against the force of the exorcism. Stiles felt shaky on his legs and saw Isaac stare at a point above their heads.

“Dinner,” Scott suddenly coughed out “I want dinner.”

* * *

Stiles turned around where he was caged in between Derek’s arms. He hadn’t really considered how close they were to each other. His heart did a funny little flip, his breath came out in short puffs.

He prayed to God that Derek wouldn’t notice. Looking up at him like that gave Stiles about ten different ideas, all of which he would never follow up on.

“Hey, Sourwolf…” he squeaked out and immediately shut his mouth again.

“You don’t need to do my dishes, you know?”

Stiles simply nodded, convinced his voice would betray him again.

Once Derek realised, Stiles wouldn’t give him a verbal answer, he stepped aside and asked:

“Are you heading out?”

Stiles missed the warmth of Derek’s body against his already but was glad to have a bit more room to breathe, which he desperately needed. Exhaustion was slowly taking hold of his senses.

He, once again, nodded a confirmation then walked to the door. Tonight had been more than strange and he felt like clearing his head before he fell asleep standing up. All those Christmassy scents on top of the exorcism probably messed with his brain.

Derek helped him into his jacket, fingertips tracing random patterns over his shoulder while Stiles fumbled with the buttons.

“See ya’ tomorrow, Der-” Stiles forced himself to say, cheeks heating up when he risked a glance at Derek’s face.

“Have a good night, Stiles…” Derek’s eyes had a light in them that Stiles hadn’t seen very often. He liked the way it made them shine a deeper green, bringing out the specks of gold around

Derek’s pupils. He fumbled with the doorknob, simultaneously wanting to leave and aching to stay. It had gotten so late that nothing would feel better than to fall asleep upstairs. Stiles tried to suppress a yawn and failed miserably.

“I think Imma sleep forever once I hit the sheets…” he mumbled, sleep already so close he could almost reach it.

Derek smiled at him, leaned in and pressed a swift kiss to his lips.

“Sleep well, Der,” he threw over his shoulder before stepping outside.

“You too, Stiles.” Derek continued to smile at him and waved until Stiles reached his Jeep.

Only when the door fell close and Stiles was finally situated in his Jeep- the cold winter air had shaken off the fatigue- did he realise what had just happened.

He froze, knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. He stared at the closed door of the Hale house, his heart almost beating out of his chest.

_What the fuck?_


	2. Coincidence

_"Coincidence is such a short word for such big signs..."_

Snow piled up outside the Stilinski house, forming interesting patterns on their porch and making the Sheriff curse when his car wouldn’t start. Stiles put off interacting with people for as long as he could, ditching Lydia’s attempts at making conversation over the phone and ignoring Jackson’s furious calls.

He had sworn to himself that his problems could wait at least for three hours. And he had stuck to that plan for the whole morning, treating himself to a hot bath and a good book, eating some cookies and watching his favourite movie.

It felt good, he had to admit, for once being unreachable, not the person everyone demanded answers and assistance from. Even if it was just for one morning, he revelled in it. He loved his pack, his family, more than he would ever be able to put into words, but, sometimes, he needed time to himself to slow that ever racing brain of his and simply exist. 

The feeling of Derek’s lips against his haunted him in randomly timed intervals, when he poured himself coffee or sang in the bathtub. But, at least for those few hours of piece, he managed to push the memory aside.

After emerging from the bathwater, Stiles had an epiphany of sorts. He had, while emerged with warmth, come to the conclusion, the kiss had either not really happened or had been some sort of weird accident. Whatever the reason, he figured, he had to talk to Derek about it. And as much as the prospect frightened him, in the safety of his bathroom, he could tell himself it would all be alright.

Still, he would wait for an appropriate reason to drop by the house, wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to just invite himself. He forgot, while arguing with himself, that driving by unannounced was exactly what he had always done, even before Derek had owned a house. His opportunity, not that he was that eager for it, came quicker than Stiles would have probably liked and in the form of a certain blond-haired, puppy-eyed wolf. 

“Hey Stiles, I’m stuck at uni, can you come pick me up?” And because Stiles had never been good at denying Isaac anything, he was on his way before the clock hit 1. He had even packed a few cookies for the wolf to eat.

Statistically, Stiles still hoped Isaac would want to go to Scott’s, but then again, ever since that three-way relationship had started, he had split his time between Derek’s and Scott’s, allegedly because Derek’s house provided some sense of quiet. Stiles suspected it had more to do with the sense of belonging, Isaac felt whenever he was close to Derek.

Not that he didn’t feel that way about Scott, or Allison for that matter, but to Isaac, Derek came a lot closer to blood family than anyone else and with him being the Alpha and all, he naturally stuck close to that source of protection.

Scott, Stiles was well aware, had moped for quite some time after Isaac had moved, complaining about missing the curly-haired wolf a lot until Allison had intervened. When Stiles had asked Derek to play translator for him, seeing as he couldn’t hear what was being said in Isaac’s room, Derek had shaken his head in a terrified manner. From then on, neither Derek nor Stiles had ever talked about the incident with each other and Stiles had sworn to himself never to ask.

There were times when he didn’t envy Derek’s enhanced hearing, and that afternoon had definitely been one of those rare occasions.

“Get in,” Stiles yelled through the open window once he had reached the campus, probably louder than was necessary. Isaac grinned from ear to ear once he saw him and excitedly skipped to the Jeep.

Stiles had sent Boyd a fruit basket after he had exchanged all four tires and had driven Roscoe home like it was nothing. He had been graced with one of those rare smiles that made Boyd look less of a mountain and more of a teddy.

“Thank you,” Isaac said, eyes earnestly blinking at Stiles like one of those goddamn puppies. He really needed to tone this down before someone could mistake him for an actual dog. 

“Scott’s?” Stiles asked, shrugging off Isaac’s thank you without second thought. Of course, he’d come get the pup, what else was he supposed to do? Leave him there? Yeah, as if.

“Derek’s.” 

Aaaand there went Stiles’ afternoon. In truth, he had kind of expected the answer already. But hope was a faux fiend and he should know that better than anyone. Also, to be honest, he really needed to have this conversation with Derek, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

“How was uni?” 

Isaac talked the whole drive through. Stiles had the sudden suspicion that the pup was trying to distract him, likely because he had smelled Stiles’ nerves the minute he had sat down beside him. 

Stiles pulled up in the drive way, his heart suddenly up in his throat and clogging his airways. Isaac continue to babble with that cheery tone, every now and then throwing glance at Stiles from the side. 

Derek had evidently not expected Stiles to accompany Isaac home. His face showed clearly how he felt about the matter. 

Stiles’ stomach plummeted instantly when he spotted that familiar expression.

“Stiles.” Even his voice didn’t hold its usual warmth, instead sounding distant as if Stiles was still a stranger on Hale property.

“I was just- Isaac called and-”

“I know.”

“I’m just gonna-” Isaac made a vague gesture “head in….”

He shoved past Derek with a little too much force and threw an apologetic look over his shoulder to Stiles. That, if anything else hadn’t, set Stiles off like nothing else. He suddenly wished desperately to be elsewhere, even though, Derek’s company was all he wished for.

Derek stepped aside then, to let Stiles pass, which he did with mixed feelings. 

The second he reached the living room, with Derek still hovering in the doorway, his anxiety got the better of him and he blurted out what had occupied his mind for the past hours.

“Soooo, uh do you- do you need something?”

He caught himself fiddling with the car keys, just to have something to do with his hands. 

“No.”

Because Derek could never make things easy for him. And while Stiles had promised himself to hash this out, he would certainly not run himself into walls to do it. 

“Kay…”

Silence settled between them, making Stiles feel as if someone was holding their tongue and trying desperately not to say anything.

“I’ll just go then…” he let the sentence hang, waiting for Derek to call him back. Which he didn’t do.

It served as confirmation for Stiles that the kiss had indeed been a misunderstanding, a mistake if you will, never to be repeated again. Because otherwise, Derek surely would have let him know, would have said something. But he hadn’t and silence was a powerful answer in itself.

His shoulders dropped in defeat while his heart plummeted to somewhere around his knees. The tentative hope he had refused to acknowledge had dissipated just like the snow crystals from his lashes.

“Stiles?” 

Maybe he shouldn’t have whipped around with such force, seeing as one of his vertebras audibly cracked.

“Yeah?” He bit his lip, praying it hadn’t come out too eager, too hopeful.

“Nothing…” The dismissal swung clear in Derek’s voice, his gaze caught elsewhere. Stiles’ shoulders slumped again. He left quickly after that, embarrassed and disappointed.

His fingers closed around the doorknob, ready to pull it open, when he heard Derek say

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” For just a second, hope spread its wings like a butterfly, fluttering softly in his chest. Derek continued to talk, however. 

“For- for kissing you- I didn’t mean…”

Dread settled deep in Stiles’ bones, making him shiver.

Numbness creeped into his every pore and he was thankful that it did.

Because if he could feel- anything at all- he would drown in pain. Derek stepped forward then, a sudden alarmed look on his face as if he had heard Stiles’ heart break in two. Stiles stepped back just as quickly, desperate to remain a safe distance away from the wolf. 

“Yeah no, I get it.” His voice broke on the last word but he forced himself to power through, simultaneously ripping open the door to let the winter air hit him.

“You didn’t mean it like that…” A bitter note had crept into his voice. Bile rose in his throat. There was no mistaking that, no interpretation that could erase the words Derek so obviously had been trying to say the whole day.

Stiles felt sick to his stomach, a need to run out of the house and drive for hours on end, burning in his veins.

He managed to step outside and close the door behind him without a hassle, heard the soft call of his name and made a run for his car. He didn’t want to listen to Derek’s apologies. Not when all he had whished for was for them to not be true.

  
  


* * *

_That could have gone better._

_It **should** have gone better.   
_

_Yet, here Derek stood, in his living room and Stiles’ scent slowly fading. He still hadn’t figured out how the situation could have gone south so quickly. One moment, he had been kissing Stiles and the next, he had realised that Stiles wasn’t kissing him back. His worries had been confirmed when Stiles hadn’t commented on the kiss other than today. And even then, the smell of fear had accompanied every word._

_Of course, Stiles would be afraid to let Derek down._

_Stiles was loyal and kind to a fault. Nothing would pain him more than to hurt others. So, instead of outright saying it, he had given Derek an opening to save face. That didn’t mean, Derek’s heart broke any less._

_Maybe he had read the signs all wrong? Stiles’ heart did tend to do funny things to his pulse after all. That didn’t automatically imply it had anything to do with Derek._

_Well, evidently not, Derek thought bitterly to himself.  
_

_That much had been made abundantly clear._

_It hadn’t at all been the first kiss he had fantasised about. Stiles would have had to have been happy about it, first and foremost._

_All those touches, the flirting while they bickered. Had it all been his imagination?_

_He didn’t want to believe that, but Stiles’ reaction- or lack thereof- had been too obvious to ignore. A part of Derek wanted to run and never look back. But he’d miss them. His pack of misfits._

_He’d miss them so damn much.  
_

_And yet, he’s the one you just can’t let go, a vicious voice in his head reminded him._

_He was aware how weak that made him, how selfishly he clung to the hope that one day, Stiles’ feelings towards him might change. Not even necessarily to something akin to what Derek was feeling for Stiles, but at least something like a familial bond, friendship even. He had thought that he had managed to change himself a good deal after their rocky start, but apparently, Stiles still didn’t think of him as anything but a gruff caveman._

_The tiny step backwards when Derek had approached him, spoke volumes.  
_

_Stiles should know by now that Derek would never harm nor hurt him. But that one tiny little step, that obvious defensive reaction, had caused Derek’s stomach to drop and him to recoil. He had never meant to scare Stiles, or make him feel unsafe in his presence. At least not since they had become real allies, a functioning pack._

_He would be better, he swore to himself, keep his distance and show Stiles that he was in no danger of being mauled by Derek. And maybe they could even be friends again. Derek wanted that._

_He missed Stiles’ chatter and his warm scent around him. If being just friends was what Stiles wanted, Derek would just have to learn to live with that._

_After all, having just a part of Stiles beat not having him at all._

* * *

Stiles’ room had never felt safer than when he came home. He curled up on his bed, blanket pulled up to his chin. The tears came with frightening speed, burning in his eyes and blurring his vision. He tried to stop himself from crying, told himself, it would be alright, that he would get over it, but his heart lurched painfully at the words and the tears only fell quicker.

After Lydia, Derek had felt like a revelation, like something to be cherished, something that could be reciprocated, new and fragile, yet more stable and balanced than anything else ever had felt to him. He had watched Derek become an Alpha even Scott was proud of, had seen the tender way he cradled Isaac’s head when the wolf felt particularly lonely.

Then Derek had started to accept Stiles, had shown him kindness, had listened when nobody else had. Stiles had fallen faster than should have been possible. Derek had made it so easy, so dangerously easy to misinterpret, to hope.

And Stiles had known, had at the very least suspected that maybe Derek didn’t feel the same way about him, that he had seen things that weren’t there and had convinced himself without actual proof.

Then the kiss had happened and hope had bloomed in his chest without him consenting. It had been too fast for him to put a damper on it, too powerful to ignore and stomp down.

And no matter how long he had taken to prepare himself for the inevitable “no” that every single love interest in his life had told him, when Derek said it, it resonated so much deeper.

Because this time, he had really thought it to be real, reciprocated.

This time, he had felt loved.

* * *

Stiles would have preferred to stay at home, but pack nights weren’t optional and he didn’t feel like explaining himself for not attending. With a slightly queasy sensation in his stomach, Stiles entered the Hale house. Scott called for him from the living room, with a warm tone. He went to seek out the crooked-jawed wolf and found him being sandwiched between Isaac and Allison. 

“Erica’s making the lasagne you like.” Stiles couldn’t resist a smile at that prospect. Heartbreak be damned. Erica’s lasagne was a gift from the gods.

“Stilinski! Get in here and help me with the cheese!” Ah, there is was. On he went and found Erica in the kitchen trying to balance a pot of tomato sauce and a plate with cheese on it.

“Glad you could make it,” Boyd muttered in passing. The unease in Stiles’ stomach settled a little. 

“Ah, deemed this worthy an appearance?” A voice piped up behind Stiles. He didn’t need to turn to know that Jackson was snarling at him. 

“Not like I called you five times yesterday,” he shoved Stiles when he walked towards the stove to taste the sauce.

And it was true, Jackson had, in fact, called Stiles the day before. He had, however, not answered, not out of malice, of course, but because his phone had given up on him. Which he tried to tell Jackson as soon as he had figured it out, but the wolf refused to listen.

“You know, I wouldn’t have ignored you…”

Were it anyone else, Stiles would have gotten exasperated long ago, but he was well aware that Jackson still had issues with being left in the dark. Even if it had been involuntary.

“Did you at least get a new phone? I’m sick of hearing your aggravating chatter on the voicemail.”

Stiles nodded and caught Jackson’s eye, saw the barely disguised hurt in there and stepped forward to pull him into a hug. Which lasted a second, if at all, because Lydia chose that moment to enter and Jackson couldn’t allow her to witness him even resembling some emotion other than rage. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. Maybe he and Derek weren’t the only ones caught in some bizarre limbo.

Speaking of the devil, Derek appeared out of nowhere and took the knife out of Erica’s hands. She didn’t protest, maybe because she loathed cutting onions, maybe because Derek was still the Alpha.

“Stiles.” Once more Stiles was greeted in that gruff voice. He didn’t know how to react to it any more than he had all those days ago, when Derek had told him it had all been a misunderstanding. He refrained from acknowledging the sting it caused in his chest and instead greeted Derek in his usual cheery manner.

* * *

After dinner and that delicious lasagne, the pack assembled in the kitchen once more to bake some cookies.

Even Boyd participated, looking almost adorable with flour smeared across his cheek. Erica made a show of kissing the splatters of chocolate off his lips after he had tasted it directly from the pot.

It warmed Stiles’ heart to see both of them so comfortable, so happy. Allison acted as peacemaker when Scott stole Isaac’s cookie right from under his nose.

The sweetness with which she kissed Isaac would have been nauseating if not for the blinding smile the curly-haired wolf had on his face. 

Scott claimed favouritism and Allison grinned to herself when she let Isaac go. Something in the atmosphere shifted when Isaac’s eyes found Scott’s. Stiles watched, equal parts horrified and fascinated, as an expression took over Isaac’s features that was inherently different from the lovesick puppy he had been not a second before. There was determination in his step, a wicked smile on his face and a look in his eyes that zeroed in on Scott like he was prey.

Isaac grabbed him by the lapels and yanked until their mouths crushed together with such force, Stiles heard their teeth clack. He turned his head to give them some privacy- even though Isaac had perfectly available room for them- and found himself staring right at Derek.

A subtle look passed over his features, bewildered, happy or envious it was hard to judge. Stiles averted his gaze, not ready to confront this particular demon.

A yell interrupted that train of thoughts and saved Stiles from losing that tight lid he had kept on his emotions all evening.

No matter what he had thought to be palpable in Derek’s eyes, he ignored it in favour of watching Jackson gesticulate wildly at a bowl of dough being shoved at him by Lydia.

She grinned widely, completely carefree. It made her beautiful, approachable.

And yet, Jackson didn’t jump on the opportunity.

“NO!” For some reason, the Kanima backed away from the bowl so fast, he knocked over the coffee table. 

“Oh, come on, Jackson, don’t be such a spoil sport.”

“ _I’m_ the spoil sport? You don’t even like cookies! What are you holding this under my nose for?”

He tried to knock the bowl out of Lydia’s hands. She simply giggled at him. 

“So, you can taste it!” Stiles briefly entertained the idea that Lydia had nipped a bit too much on the eggnog, but wrote it off once he noticed the playful gleam in her eyes. 

"I don't want to taste that ugly-ass cookie dough!"

"Don't be crass! It's so delicious and you're behaving like an idiot!"

"This is not delicious!" Jackson yelled.

Lydia simply raised a perfectly trimmed brow and asked in a calm voice:

“How would you know?”

When Jackson opened his mouth after taking a breath, undoubtedly to start another rant, Lydia shoved the spoon right into his mouth. They all watched Jackson splutter, swallow, dough smeared across his face.

“You like it?” 

“No.” But even Stiles could tell the truth, even without hearing Jackson’s heartbeat. Predictably, Erica couldn’t let Jackson off the hook easily, and, to be honest, why would she. So, she called him out in that gleeful tone of hers: 

“Liar.”

“Fuck you!”

He stormed off, probably to sulk while Erica’s laughter followed him out of the room. Stiles, although teasing Jackson was always funny, couldn’t help following him. Something about the violent reaction had triggered a memory in Stiles that he cared enough to follow up on.

He found the wolf on the roof, obviously not freezing as much as Stiles was- damned heating that came with the bite.

“Go away!” 

“Why? So, you can perfect the image of the wolf on the roof? Howling at the moon?”

“Fuck you too, Stilinski! I just needed some air!”

“Because you don’t want to eat cookies?”

“Because I don’t belong here!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can play happy family all you want but we all know that there is an elephant in the room and pretending won’t make it go away.”

Stiles, for a brief second, thought Jackson was talking about his and Derek’s slip of judgment. 

But his worry was rendered unjustified, when Jackson continued. 

“I don’t fit in here. And I’m sick of playing charades.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Why in the name of god would you not fit in here? Because you’ve been on a murder spree? Get in line, dude.”

“You were different.”

“Was I? Because as far as I can remember, you weren’t the one to put a sword through Allison.”

“You didn’t kill her.”

“No, but it was damn near thing. And what about the people I- _it_ killed, huh?” he still had trouble not referring to the Nogitsune as himself.

“Do you think you’re special because your eyes turn fucking blue? Because if you seriously think that then I’mma tell you something that will knock you off your fucking high horse. Guess what Derek’s eyes were like before he became the Alpha.”

“That’s not-”

“Not what? Not the same? Because he was fully conscious and you weren’t? Or because he didn’t intend to hurt her but it was out of his control?”

“No- I-”

“It wasn’t his fault just as much as it isn’t yours. So, get over yourself, climb from that damn roof and go taste some of these cookies or I’m going to bully Isaac into giving you the puppy eyes until you do.”

Jackson huffed, as if to add something, but ultimately climbed back inside. Stiles followed and immediately noticed the shadow lurking in the doorway.

“You can come out. I know you’re there.”

Derek shuffled forward, dragging his feet a little.

“I couldn’t help but listen…”

He scratched his head, his eyes flickering through the room.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, Sourwolf, I know you didn’t.” Stiles felt exhausted, too tired to decipher every emotion passing Derek’s face. He patted the wolf on the shoulder when he passed him.

“Stiles?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For-” he breathed in deeply, shoulders rising and staying up by his ears. 

“For saying that.” 

“I meant it, you know? All of it.” Because Derek should have been told that a long time ago, until he believed it. And if Stiles could do that one thing for him, he gladly would. 

“I know.”

Somehow, he found that hard to believe. 

“Do you?”

“I- your heart didn’t skip.”

Stiles nodded, a tentative smile forming on his lips.

“Good to know it finally got through that stubborn head of yours.” He figured a little teasing would lighten the mood, wipe that earnest look off of Derek’s face that threatened to make Stiles’ heart splinter in his chest. 

Derek didn’t answer verbally but his posture relaxed slightly.

Stiles took it as a step in the right direction.

* * *

_He had had it under control up to the point where Stiles had left the room to look after Jackson. Derek had, long ago, been made aware that Jackson, in particular, needed a little more reassurance than he liked to let on. He had indented to provide that when Stiles beat him to it._

_Derek ignored Erica’s lewd comments and Lydia’s raised brow when he followed Stiles out of the room. It didn’t take long to find the pair. And Derek didn’t mean to listen in, he just wanted to make sure Jackson was doing alright, when he heard Stiles say his name._

_For a short moment, he feared he had been spotted, but then Stiles continued. Derek’s heart clenched painfully at hearing Stiles talk about his eyes. Being an Alpha had its perks._

_Red covering the blue of his eyes, the fatal proof of his inability, his slips of judgment, his mistakes, was one he wouldn’t want to miss._

_Even if it just helped him look in the mirror without being reminded every day of the disappointment he was._

_Stiles, though, didn’t seem to think that and it made hope blossom shyly in Derek’s chest. Hearing Stiles talk about him, in that soft voice full of emotion, of pride even, did things to him, he couldn’t put into words._

_Maybe, just maybe, their relationship was salvageable after all._

_So, when Stiles addressed him after climbing back into the room, Derek stopped him.  
_

_“Thank you,” he whispered, praying it would convey the depth of emotion that was behind it._

* * *

On a whim, Stiles decided to bring his Dad some coffee to the precinct, maybe even a cookie, if he was feeling generous. 

Upon delivery, he was rewarded with a heartfelt:

“Thanks.”

The frown lines on his father’s face had deepened over the last few days. The second, Stiles entered the precinct, he became aware of the reason for that quite instantaneously.

“What’s going on?”

“Missing kids. Three of ‘em,” his father said around a bite of cinnamon cookie. 

“Missing? As in kidnapped or as in run-away?” 

“Kidnapped.”

“Any idea if it’s, you know…” Stiles made a vague gesture to encompass all that he wasn’t saying. 

“We’re not sure yet. Seems a bit odd, though. They disappeared in broad daylight and the parents all swore they had gotten along well. No fights, no problems, no trouble.” 

“Sounds a bit too good to be to true to me,” Stiles mused. The Sheriff nodded his head in confirmation. 

“My thought exactly.”

“Was there anything else? Anything,” he glanced around the room, cautious of all the ears in close proximity. 

“Anything unusual?”

“Coals.”

“Come again?” Because surely, he had heard wrong. Surely-

“There were coals where they disappeared.”

Yeah, Stiles had nothing to contribute to that. 

“Sheriff?” Tara called for his Dad and he threw Stiles a quick thank you before marching down the corridor. Stiles was left staring at the wall, thousand and one thoughts in his head that he couldn’t string together in a coherent sentence. 

The drive home was mostly his brain trying to sort through every bit of information about supernatural creatures kidnapping children that it could come up with. Changelings were featured quite prominently as were ghouls and other scavengers but the coals threw him for a loop each time he came back to them.

Once he reached his room, he was already on a conference call with Allison and Lydia and browsing through the books that were stacked on his desk.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with that,” Allison said on her end. Stiles could hear her clicking on something on her computer, so tuned in to the conversation that even the tiniest noise registered.

“Do you think it could be seasonal?” Lydia piped up “Maybe related to the cold?”

“But we don’t usual get temperatures below freezing.”

“Precisely my point.”

“Ah, so you think it’s because it snowed, that thing appeared?”

“Could be.”

“Does anyone else feel like we’re grasping for straws here?”

Stiles was about to affirm, when his window slid open and Derek climbed in. He was proud to say that he neither screamed bloody murder nor dropped his phone. He might have yelped, though, but that was beside the point.

“It got another one.” Stiles refused to let himself get hung up on the fact that Derek knew about the abductions.

“Okay, I don’t even wanna ask how you know that. So, I’mma ignore it and just tell you that we have no idea what it is yet.”

“I overheard the deputies investigating and came straight here. Since you didn’t pick up.”

Yeah, he distantly remembered his phone vibrating against his cheek. 

_Whoops._

“Anyway. So, it leaves behind coals, goes after children. Anything else?” Lydia sounded a bit on edge, not that anyone could blame her. 

“Nope. That’s all we have.”

“Gimme that,” Derek suddenly chimed in, gesturing for Stiles to hand him a book about European mythology that Stiles only had in the first place because it was part of a series.

“What do you want with that? We’re not anywhere near Europe.”

But Derek ignored him, completely immersed in the book already.

“I still think those kids weren’t as innocent as the parents made them out to be. No one has that perfect of a family life. That’s just unrealistic,” Allison was still talking when Derek suddenly dropped the book in front of Stiles.

“What?”

Derek simply pointed at the page. Stiles skimmed over the words and felt a whole chandelier light up inside his head. 

“Guys?”

“Sorry,” he said once he had regained sense of his surroundings.

“I think we’ve got it.” 

“Can one of you let us in on it before I have to drive over to your house?”

“Okay, listen up: The Krampus is a red-horned figure, half goat, half demon, that punishes children who misbehave during Christmas season. He is the companion of St. Nicholas, filling children’s stockings with coals on 5th of December. He carries a pitchfork and is said to have chains around his ankles, alerting the house of his arrival.”

“That- is surprisingly concise,” Derek preened a bit at the praise coming from Lydia. 

“Does it say how to get the kids back?” 

“Not really.

“If I’m reading this right then it plans to eat them.” Stiles breathed out.

“What?!?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just a side note. What else do you think it wants with them?”

“We need to find it!” Lydia said “How do we find it?” 

“Where would such a creature bring them? Where would it hide?” Stiles couldn’t determine whether Allison was still talking to them or to herself. 

The silence stretched between them until it grew uncomfortable. Derek and Stiles were still frantically searching each book available and the internet for information on Krampus’ preference when Lydia huffed out a breath. 

“We’re not making any progress. We need to narrow it down, ask the parents what the kids did, drive around and see if we can find it, maybe set up a trap.”

“How about bait?”

“Bait?” 

“Yes, bait. If we can find a kid that has recently fought with their parents, maybe someone who is old enough not to be scared of the Krampus, we could follow it.”

Stiles couldn’t believe what had just come out of Allison’s mouth. He was about to say something, when Derek growled beside him.

“We’re not using a child as bait.”

“Then what? We’re waiting until we find something and let those other kids get eaten?”

She had a point. She really did. And Stiles hated to admit it.

Derek wasn’t faring any better by the looks of it.

“Do you have someone in mind?” Lydia asked, but a tentative note took hold of her voice.

“Not really…” 

“So, what? We can’t just pick anybody. I won’t put a child in danger.”

“No one is saying you should.”

“Then what? You had the idea, now, follow it up!” Stiles was being harsh, he was well aware, but time was essential and the lives of four children were on the line.

“Isaac.”

A collective “what?” followed that exclamation.

“He’s not a child, you know that, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware. That’s not what I was trying to say.”

“Then get on with it!” Lydia had obviously reached her limit.

“There’s this girl, she’s fourteen, I think. And he met her in that group- you know, because they deal with abusive parents and stuff like that- and she knows he’s a wolf because he turned in front of her when he had that panic attack where Derek had to come get him. And she told him that it was okay and that she didn’t care.”

“So, let me get this straight: you want to use a girl Isaac knows from a support group for children from abusive households to lure out a monster punishing children?”

“Yes.”

“This is your responsibility,” Derek barked, his disapproval as apparent as his depsparation for a solution to this mess.

“I know.” She hung up and suddenly it was only Derek and Stiles in the room. Lydia had ended the call just a minute after Allison.

“It’s a bad idea.”

Derek nodded, clenching his fists.

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

“I know, it’s just- it doesn’t feel right to drag someone into this.”

“No.”

“You think it’ll work?”

“Using her as bait or getting them out?”

“Both?”

“Maybe.” Derek wouldn’t meet his eyes. And it was almost comically easy for Stiles to spot the lie.

“Liar.” Stiles accused, an attempt at lifting the mood and taking their thoughts elsewhere.

Derek almost smiled.

“We have to get her out first. I don’t want her involved in that any more than she has to be.” 

“You think anyone wants that?”

“No,” he conceded. Even Allison didn’t want that. Especially, after all three of them had become an item, Isaac’s issues had come to the surface in almost regular intervals. She had been the one to encourage him to even attend the support group meetings. Under any other circumstances, Allison would never have even dared to think about using a child as bait.

They were desperate and it was showing.   
  


* * *

Kathleen, as it turned out, was more than happy to help, especially, since her little sister was one of the victims. Stiles knew Beacon Hills was a small town but that was more coincidental than even the pack used to.

She played her part beautifully, screaming at her adoptive parents, who had taken her in after her father had attempted to assault her with a kitchen knife. 

Five different trackers they had installed in her clothes and her shoes. Isaac was following the signal on his phone while barking out directions left and right to Derek.

It should have been a comical picture, a Beta instructing an Alpha, if it weren’t such a grim situation.

Their cars came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the woods, were snow blocked the road ahead. Stiles cursed and jumped out, followed by the rest of the pack. Isaac fell into a jog, Scott close on his heels.

They lead the pack to a ring of small bonfires, forming a circle around a clearing. The sun was slowly setting, the light a fiery red. In the middle of the clearing a shack leaned against a tree.

They didn’t dare step closer, afraid they would announce their presence too soon. Stiles noticed the plethora of footprints around the shack. Some were children’s’, that much was obvious, some could stem from a goat.

But others, smaller ones, were non-distinguishable. He gestured for Derek to look at them when the door of the shack flew open and an armada of flying beasts came out like a hive of bees.

In the matter of seconds, the pack was fighting vehemently against claws and nails and teeth that were sharp enough to hurt.

Stiles swung with all his might against everything he could reach. His arms screamed at him to save his strength but he couldn’t, not when children were in danger and he could help them.

* * *

_He looked beautiful. The thought stunned Derek for a moment while he was still crouched down and fighting a bunch of what appeared to be Krampus elves. But he couldn’t help himself. He stared._

_Because Stiles, all lean muscle and fluid motions, was swinging left and right with much more grace than Stiles probably knew himself to be capable of. His eyes shone a bright topaz, glistening even in the low light of the afternoon._

_Derek had fallen for them first._

_That and Stiles’ brain._

_But the eyes, oh the eyes were a different story. Whiskey and smoke, full of golden warmth. And Derek wanted to drown in them, be suffocated by the thickness of metal if it meant, he could keep looking._

_Stiles turned then and caught Derek’s gaze. His cheeks flushed, but Derek knew it had to be the exertion._

_However much he knew he should look away, Derek couldn’t bring himself to. He watched as a drop of sweat trickled down Stiles’ temple and wanted to reach out to trace it._

_Stiles’ eyebrows seemed to ask Derek what he was doing, if something was wrong and Derek could do nothing to answer. He was caught in the fluttering of Stiles’ lashes, the way his heart rate slowed and sped up in those irregular intervals- which he had learned to be just Stiles._

_Maybe, if he had paid closer attention to his surroundings, he would have heard the creature behind him move before its pitchfork pierced his skin. The only indication that something was remotely wrong- even before the pain shot through him- was the sudden pause in Stiles’ heartbeat._

_It lasted but the second it took for the bloody spikes to be removed from Derek’s chest. He felt more than heard the gut-wrenching scream Stiles let loose._

_Even while he toppled over, all that his mind focussed on was the pain so clearly visible in those pools of whiskey._

_Derek held onto them until darkness took over._

* * *

Derek was staring at him with that unreadable look, not even blinking and it scared Stiles a little. He quickly checked himself for injuries, thinking he must have something on his face that had caught the wolf’s attention.

But he came up blank.

Sweat dripped from his brow and he had to blink against the sting of it in his eye.

Derek seemed to trace Stiles’ every move with his gaze and it unsettled Stiles like hardly anything else. He noticed, while staring at Derek, a shadow just behind the Alpha. Stiles didn’t have time to react, to warn him, when the spikes of a pitchfork buried themselves deep in Derek’s chest, impaling him on it like he was made of butter. Stiles felt his lungs burn at the scream that escaped him.

Derek still stared at him, caught in a seemingly endless loop of surprise and pain. His eyes fixed on Stiles’, his lashes fluttered.

And then Derek fell over.

The blood tinted the snow a horrible red. Stiles didn’t dare look at him. He focussed on the figure with the pitchfork, the Krampus himself, its ugly head and red horns. Blinding rage overshadowed all the fear prickling under the surface. 

Stiles charged.

Three steps were enough to reach the horrendous figure. He swung his bat, felt it connect with the Krampus’ skull. The armada of elves shot down on him, cutting through his jacket and blurring his sight.

He didn’t care, hit at everything he could reach with enough force to split a tree in half.

The bat hit the shackles, made them clink satisfyingly loud.

Then Isaac was by his side and Scott on the other. Jackson, Erica and Boyd charged from behind. Allison’s arrows cut the air around them, finding their target with each new hot. Lydia let loose a scream that almost burst Stiles’ eardrums. He saw thick black liquid leak out of the Krampus’ ears and motioned for Lydia to try again.

Deafening, her voice echoed through the trees. Jackson roared when the Krampus turned towards Lydia. His eyes flashed blue and he sprang forward, backed by Erica and Scott.

They circled the Krampus, delivering hits and bites wherever they could. Stiles heard Allison yell in pain, saw Isaac rush to her aid and Scott howl in anger.

Lydia screamed again, almost out of breath, her voice shaky and exhausted.

Stiles realised they were losing. Derek was still on the ground, blood trickling from the wounds in his chest. He couldn’t see whether or not his healing had kicked in. Erica managed to open up a space for Stiles then. 

Time slowed. 

He reached for the knife in his jacket, pulled it out, blade at the ready.

The Krampus turned to him, a red gleam in its eyes, shackles clacking. Stiles centred himself, breathed in. 

He fell into a sprint, dodged the first rain of claws but didn’t see the second coming and felt it rip the skin of his neck. The pain didn’t settle like Stiles was sure it would. It gave him strength, made him speed up. Boyd, out of nowhere, held the arm that was swinging at Stiles again, back with his body whole strength.

The blade shone red in the low light of the setting sun. It glistened when it cut through muscle and bone. The elves around him fell dead to the ground. The Krampus stared at Stiles with something akin to wonder.

Its head fell back, its body dropped.

Stiles didn’t spare it a second glance, came to a halt on his knees by Derek’s body. Scott assured him, time and time again, that the Alpha was still breathing. Stiles’ brain didn’t realise that the wounds on Derek’s chest already looked better until the wolf coughed and sat up abruptly.

_“Stiles?”  
_

“You fucking idiot!” Stiles roared, putting every wolf around him to shame. They quickly scrambled away from the pair, sensing emotional conflict was on the way.

“We’ll get the kids,” Allison promised where she was limping to the shack on a badly injured ankle. Something in Stiles settled when he saw five children, a little haggard but otherwise unharmed, leave the shack. Lydia waved at him before she disappeared through the trees, with Jackson’s arm around her.

Derek still hadn’t said anything beyond Stiles’ name.

“What were you thinking, stopping in the middle of a fight like that? Are you completely mad or did some of that Christmas stupidity finally get to you?” He hit Derek on the arm, probably a little too hard considering the wolf was injured and yet couldn’t be arsed to feel guilty about it.

Once more, Stiles felt himself being stared at and look questioningly, and accusingly at the wolf.

But Derek continued to remain silent. Stiles was just about to throw himself into another rant when Derek roughly pulled him in by his jacket and crushed their mouths together.

Stiles lost his balance completely, hands flailing by his sides, so, out of instinct, he grabbed the only thing he could reach, which were Derek’s shoulders. His mouth opened on its own accord and felt more than heard Derek groan softly into the kiss.

Stiles’ mind caught up with his body just then. A sudden desire sparked in his veins and he went lax in Derek’s grip. The adrenaline of the fight threatened to suffocate him while Derek’s lips moved against his.

Stiles could barely believe what was happening. His fingers buried themselves in Derek’s shoulders, pulling him in even closer.

Teeth scraped over lips, elicited a moan in both of them when Derek’s tongue slid over Stiles’. It was when Stiles’ hands found their way to Derek’s waist when he noticed a sudden tension in Derek’s body. He was shoved back unceremoniously and almost fell over from the momentum. 

“Der-” Stiles started to say but one glimpse at the thin line that was Derek’s mouth and the haunted look in his eyes had him stop. The wolf got to his feet with more grace than should be allowed from someone who had been on the brink of death not ten minutes prior. He around on the spot, feet hitting the ground harder than necessary and he stalked away.

Stiles was left staring at Derek’s retreating back. His stomach dropped to his knees when Derek didn’t even turn around once.

With the sleeve of his jacket, he tried frantically to rub the ghost of Derek’s lips off of his own.

_He didn’t quite succeed…_   
  



	3. Pattern

_“No matter how trivial the recollections seem, note them down, and try searching for a pattern in them.”_

Stiles had driven home, exhausted, confused, tired and sorely disappointed. He couldn’t erase the feeling from his brain or his lips but he had to concede that twice in a row didn’t feel quite as accidental as one kiss had. He promised himself not to get his hopes up and at the same time couldn’t help the shy seed of it blossoming in his heart.

Still, when Derek called him over to discuss patrol plans, Stiles remained a safe distance away, kept his thoughts to himself and refrained from interpreting Derek’s behaviour too much. Not even once did he bring up the kiss or Derek’s sudden change of mind.

Even if it meant biting his tongue and being a little snappier than usual.

* * *

Scott called Stiles two days later to tell Stiles that Derek had finally received his invitation to the office party. Stiles was genuinely glad to hear that. He had been a little worried how Derek might be affected if he really didn’t get invited.

Then, Scott proceeded to invite Stiles over to Derek’s for a pre-Christmas dinner that he just couldn’t find it in himself to decline.

Jackson picked him up, in the Porsche, obviously, with Lydia already inside the car. Stiles noticed immediately how she covered his hand with hers, a sure sign they were back together.

“Not one word,” Jackson muttered when he saw where Stiles’ gaze was glued to. Stiles shot him a smirk in the rear-view mirror and saw Jackson’s lips curl briefly around a smile.

Scott pulled him into the living room and shoved a plate into his hands the second the trio stepped inside. Isaac cuddled him from the right and Erica from the left. It made for a cosy wolf-sandwich.

After dinner, Boyd picked a movie- it was his turn to choose and he went for _A Christmas Carol_ and settled on Erica’s other side, putting a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Derek reclined himself to the chair and no one in the room missed the content smile on his face when Scrooge bought the turkey for Bob Cratchit and his family.

Five batches of cookies were baked, alternatingly by Stiles and Allison, Scott and Isaac and Erica and Jackson.

Derek tried and failed miserably at forming a tree out of the greenish dough. The look of concentration he had on his face while placing the only recognisable tree on the tray was adorable.

Some of the pack went to bed straight after- Boyd, for example, had an early shift- some stayed in the living room to watch another Christmas movie. Stiles realised just then that he was still covered in flour and he asked Derek to use his shower.

“You don’t have to ask, you know?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you just have a spare towel in your bathroom.” Why Stiles would use Derek’s bathroom without either of them even having to actually say that was of no consequence. It had just always been that way.

The heat of the shower did wonders for Stiles’ back- having been a bit tense after standing in the kitchen for quite a long time. He was just about to pour the shampoo into his palm, when Derek’s voice rang through the door Stiles had left open.

“Stiles?” The call of his name startled him a little. He strained his neck, useless as it seemed in the middle of the shower with water deafening his ears.

“Hm?”

“Do you-”

“Sorry, Der- I can’t hear you…”

Derek huffed and walked into the bathroom, apparently not the least bit concerned that Stiles was in the shower and very much naked.

“Do you-”

“Holy shit!” Stiles, who had been completely unaware that Derek had walked in, slipped on the tiles in his haste to turn around. He flailed and, almost in slow motion, lost his footing. His back connected with the wall and then the tiles hard enough for an audible crack to overlay even the streaming water. Derek ripped the door open without any consideration for Stiles’ naked state.

 _“Derek!”_ Stiles squeaked, scandalised and tried (in vain) to cover himself. Derek, instead of answering, ignored him and assessed his body for damage, demanding Stiles turn over so he could get a good look at his back. Stiles, even while wet, tried his best to fight him off.

Maybe Derek, in his protective hunch, hadn’t realised until now, but Stiles was very much aware that his back was attached to his butt and he’d like to spare himself the embarrassment of giving Derek an eyeful.

“Are you hurt?” Somehow, he had managed to switch off the constant stream of water drenching both of them. At least for that, Stiles could be grateful.

“Derek! Stop it! Fuck!” Stiles cursed while still trying to pry Derek’s hands off, which Derek took as confirmation for some unfathomable reason.

“You’re hurt! Let me look at it!” Yeah no, see reasons above.

_“No!”  
_

“Stiles!” The growl triggered an echo in the bathroom. It made Derek wince; he paused.

“Sorry, that was-“ he scratched his head “a bit loud…”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock!” Stiles bit out from his position on the floor, which had started to become rather uncomfortable. Derek though, hovering as he was, had an expression on his face that seemed caught between constipated, worried and apologetic. It softened Stiles’ heart a little. He hadn’t meant to lash out like this when Derek just wanted to help but his insecurities somehow hadn’t gotten the memo yet.

To salvage the situation, he continued in a softer tone: 

“Just gimme a towel, Big Guy.” Derek, whose face had gotten rather red, complied and helped Stiles up when he was sufficiently covered. Derek still didn’t leave him be until he had asserted the damage on Stiles’ back himself, which was minimal, at best. Sure, his shoulder burned where he had hit the floor but he’d had worse- definitely.

“Hey-” Stiles asked after getting dressed “didn’t you want to ask me something?”

Derek blushed up to his hair, a sure sign Stiles was on the right track.

“No.” It came out forceful. Stiles knew instantly, he was being lied to.

“So, you just decided to walk in while I was in the shower for no reason at all?”

“Yes.”

Yeah, and his name was Jackson and he liked sunflowers.

“Whatever you say, Big Guy…” he felt a little disappointed that Derek didn’t want to tell him. Just when he was about to let it go, Derek grabbed him by the arm and stopped him from leaving the bedroom.

“I-” with his free hand, he scratched his head, continued in a low voice that Stiles could barely make out.

“Do you want to go to the office party with me?”

Did he want to-

Wait a minute?

Replay!

The only thing that came out of his mouth was a very eloquent:

“What?”

Derek huffed, a sure sign that he didn’t feel comfortable and marched out of the room, shoulders drawn up to his ears. It would have looked adorable if it weren’t for the fact that Stiles knew, he had just fucked something up monumentally.

“Derek?”

“Forget it,” ah, the growl had deemed a re-appearance necessary.

“Derek.” he felt stupid running after him.

“No.”

“Come on! Ask me again!” maybe if he whined for long enough, Derek would get annoyed and say it again because he was sure he must have misheard. Fortunately, it seemed like he wouldn’t need to.

“I- I wanted to ask… I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to-” another sigh “to my office party?”

“Yes.” As if that needed consideration.

* * *

Stiles pulled the sleeves of his shirt down and rolled them back up for- what had to be- the millionth time this evening. He simply couldn’t decide which way looked better. On the one hand, his arms would be accentuated when the sleeves were rolled up but then he wouldn’t have anything to fumble with when he felt uncomfortable.

And that he was bound to feel uncomfortable at least at one point this evening was beyond dispute.

Not a date, he kept reminding himself.

Not a date.

Not a date.

_Not a date._

Derek had just invited him along because he needed company that he wouldn’t want to murder by the end of the night. Why he had picked Stiles for that was a bit confusing.

Also, knowing Derek, the guy was probably overwhelmed with anxiety right now. And since Stiles could relate to that on a personal level, he understood the relief of having a friend with you on occasions such as office Christmas parties.

The doorbell rang just then, ripping him out of his thoughts and causing his heartbeat to suddenly skyrocket with such force, he felt the blood pumping in his ears.

The hazard of running down the stairs in a haste was as reals as it was unpleasant and Stiles took a deep dive to the rug.

“Stiles?!” Derek’s thunderous voice boomed in the silence of the living room even though the door still separated them.

Stiles got up, dusted himself off and let Derek in.

“What was that? I heard a thud.” Confused Derek was adorable and Stiles had to remind himself sternly that this thought was inappropriate. For naught, it seemed, since that was the precise moment Derek’s outfit registered in Stiles’ brain.

The deep green button-up fit snuggly around Derek’s chest, accentuating the slim waist and of thin enough material for Stiles to almost count his abs. Dark jeans hugged Derek’s legs like they were painted on. Stiles briefly wondered if Derek could even breathe in that outfit but then again, people looking that good rarely gave a damn whether or not they were comfortable.

“You look-” the slightly hesitant tone made Stiles look up. Derek was focussed on his midriff it seemed, where his shirt had ridden up with the fall. He pulled it down hastily, heat flushing his cheeks.

Derek’s eyes snapped up at the motion. Stiles noted that the tips of Derek’s ears had a certain red tinge too.

_Huh._

Interesting.

“Good,” Derek suddenly blurted out. Stiles startled a little.

“What?”

“You look good. The shirt- it fits you…”

Again: _What?!_

Stiles fiddled with the sleeves of the shirt, glancing down to its maroon hem. He liked the colour well enough but he wouldn’t necessarily say he looked good. Not when Derek stood there with the body of a Greek god and the face straight out of a magazine.

Derek held the door of his car open for Stiles to climb inside. It felt strangely official and yet not that different from the times before when Derek had driven Stiles somewhere.

They reached the venue and Stiles was baffled by the decorations, reminding him of a winter wonderland. Derek seemed to sense his glee in the uptick of his heart beat and asked if Stiles liked the way it looked.

That Derek even knew Stiles was a sucker for Christmas decoration made it difficult for Stiles not to dissolve into hysteric love proclamations. He had to keep a lid on those feelings, for good now. This was not a date and he was here to support Derek as his friend.

“We don’t have to stay long. If- if you’re uncomfortable…” And Stiles just knew that this was Derek trying to calm himself down. He knew most of these people, he liked most of these people.

Objectively, there was no need for nerves but Derek really hated large gatherings, afraid not to fit in, to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and anger or hurt someone in the process.

And to that, Stiles could relate very much, so, he tried to reassure Derek as best as he could.

“Let’s just get inside, Sourwolf, okay? I promise, it won’t be half as bad as you think it’s going to be.”

* * *

Stiles had been trying to get a hold of Derek for at least fifteen minutes now, but the wolf was nowhere to be found. He had been dragged off by a ridiculously attractive woman in a tight dress that accentuated her curves in a way that made many heads turn. It upset him in a way that he knew it shouldn’t and yet, the pit in his stomach had reopened like an old wound.

He fiddled with his shirt, disappointment gradually settling in his stomach. If he had known Derek would leave him, he probably wouldn’t have accepted the invitation so easily. Being on his own surrounded by people he had exchanged the maximum of five words with whenever he occasionally picked up Derek from work, didn’t exactly make him feel all that comfortable.

Briefly, he contemplated getting himself something to eat but that would involve the warzone that was the buffet and he wanted to avoid that at all cost.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch and he whipped around, stomach sinking when he realised it wasn’t Derek behind him.

“You looked a little lost.”

Stiles didn’t know the guy but he smiled and it comforted Stiles even when he detected a hint of alcohol on his breath.

“My friend ditched me…” He smiled back and around the words, hoping it would come off blasé.

“Not a good friend then.”

“No, he is. I’m sure he has a good reason.”

“I don’t know. Can’t seem that good of a reason to me, leaving someone like you.”

Stiles shrugged, his mood lifting a bit just because someone was being sympathetic and he wasn’t on his own anymore.

“You want to get some air? It’s a bit stuffy in here.”

“Sure.”

Stiles was led to a backdoor and breathed in deeply when the cold air hit him square in the face. He hadn’t realised how stuffy it had been in there.

“What’s your name?”

“Stiles.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really.”

The guy shrugged, a motion easily translated as: whatever you say.

“What’s yours?”

“Mark.”

Stiles nodded, the conversation stalling.

Usually, he would be already flailing his arms and babbling like there was no tomorrow, but tonight, he didn’t feel like his usual self. The air had made him sleepy, Derek’s disappearance had added to the overall feeling of being out of place and Christmas made him melancholic anyway.

He stopped that train of thought immediately, fighting against the image of his mom smiling down at him.

“You okay?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

“Sorry, just tired.”

Mark was very close, Stiles realised. When did that happen?

He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with such proximity. His heart suddenly ached, in a reminiscence of Derek leaning in just like that.

Before he could even end that thought, Mark’s hand settled on his cheek, tracing the pattern of moles splattered across his skin.

“I spotted you across the room, you know.”

Okay. Stiles had no idea what to do with that. What he did know for sure, however, was that this situation had taken a turn he really had neither expected nor wanted it to. He tried to step back but felt the wall against him.

“Uhm, I’m not-”

“And you looked real pretty, you know? All that pale skin.” The smell of alcohol was more prominent now that Mark was so close. Stiles wanted to politely decline and go back to the party, but when he did, Mark’s other hand closed around his wrist, keeping him in place.

“Just had to talk to you. I’d love to get a taste of those lips.”

Stiles’ entire body screamed at him to push, to get away, do something besides standing there motionless and listening to him talk. It was an almost perverse reversal of his own fantasies. But they centred around a certain wolf and not a drunk stranger at a party.

He kept staring, wide eyed and disgusted with himself that he was still frozen in his stupor.

Suddenly the hand on his cheeks was gone, as was the man leaning in. Stiles blinked up confusedly. It took a while longer than he was proud of, for him to realise that Derek was fuming beside him, the hand of the creep enclosed in an iron grip.

“Take your hands off him!”

Derek sounded more animal than human, teeth elongating so much that the pointed ends were visible, their length obviously unnatural even in the low light.

“Der-” Stiles whispered in an attempt to deescalate the situation.

“It was just a misunderstanding. Didn’t know he was taken.” Mark tried to back away. Derek still didn’t let go of his hand.

“Apologise.” The growl garbled his speech.

“Relax, man,” he chuckled completely unaware to what Stiles saw boil down to murderous rage.

He stepped forward, placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder, but the wolf shook it off. Stiles saw Derek’s eyes bleed red.

“I said,” his voice had a dangerous edge to it, his grip tightened visibly.

_“Apologise!”_

“Sorry,” Mark squeaked out while sweat gathered on his eyebrow and dripped down his face. Derek shoved him back then. Mark immediately made a run for the parking lot, not looking back once and almost falling over his own feet. Stiles breathed a bit more freely now that the situation was dissolved.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“ _He_ shouldn’t have done that!”

“No, Der. You really shouldn’t have done that.” Stiles reached out to him, a hand on his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t out yourself to help me.”

“Why not? What’s a better reason?”

“Literally anything else would be a better reason than to scare off an asshole from groping me on a Christmas office party.”

“Not to me.”

“Aww, Sourwolf. Didn’t know you cared,” Stiles cooed, desperate to lift the tension from Derek’s shoulders that were still strained in his grip.

“But seriously. Don’t risk yourself for me.”

“What if I want to?”

“Want to?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stiles-” Derek started until a voice interrupted him loudly.

“You guys comin’ in?” Barbara Anders, one of the secretaries, stuck her head out of the door and motioned them to follow her.

Stiles, disappointed that he, once again, wouldn’t get to know what Derek was trying to say, turned to follow Barbara inside. But he was held back by a hand on his wrist, this one, gentle.

He blinked up at Derek, a tad unsure what to make of his reluctance to go inside.

But Derek’s eyes weren’t focussed on his, they were instead, on glued to his lips, watching as Stiles nervously licked them. Derek didn’t pull him in harshly, he gave Stiles plenty of time to move away. Their breaths mingled even before the first tentative touch to Stiles’ lips.

Derek smelled of cinnamon and burned wood, equal parts sweet and fiery. Stiles let his jaw drop a little, to allow Derek’s tongue to breach his lips. Derek’s hands found Stiles’ waist, fingers soft against his shirt. He pulled him closer, gently, without any hurry.

Stiles’ skin burned when Derek’s mouth trailed down from his lips to his neck, tracing random patterns with his tongue.

Teeth graced his earlobe and he shivered violently in Derek’s grip.

“Der-”

But that was the precise moment that Derek’s teeth scraped his pulse point.

Stiles’ fingers went iron around Derek’s biceps, digging his nails into the flesh. Derek growled low in his throat, his breath suddenly quite short against Stiles’ skin.

“Derek-” Stiles tried again, not even sure what he wanted to say.

“Hm?” It shouldn’t be this hot, hearing Derek hum, fingers clenching against his waist.

“We should-” he gulped down the nervous flatter in his throat. Derek chose that moment to seal his lips by kissing him again. Stiles melted against the wolf, fisting his hands in the front of his shirt.

“Stiles…” Derek whispered against his lips, saying his name like a prayer.

Barbara’s voice cut through the haze that fogged Stiles’ brain.

“Seriously, guys- we’re all waiting for Derek to make a toast.”

Reluctantly, Stiles let go of Derek’s shirt and his gaze locked right onto Derek’s blown pupils.

The sight stunned him, as it was proof of how Derek had been affected by the kiss just as much as Stiles had.

“Do you-” Derek cleared his throat, his ears tinged red.

“Do you want to go back in with me?”

Stiles nodded, his mind racing. He was careful to put one foot in front of the other, to avoid falling over when Derek suddenly steadied him with a hand on his back.

“I can drive you home? If you want to go now…”

“No. That’s not- sorry- that’s not it,” Stiles hurried to say. Derek’s face did something close enough to a smile that Stiles relaxed slightly. At least for a few minutes.

Derek’s toast was short and heartfelt and Stiles felt proud of him.

This Derek, right here, was a long shot from the grumbling Sourwolf he had met in the woods all those years ago. Stiles didn’t know if the alcohol was speaking, but his eyes teared up when a voice in his head reminded him of all the reasons why he had fallen so hard for the Alpha. Derek smiled at him then, eyes crinkling with uninhibited joy, a sight rare to behold, and it lit up his face in a way that was breath-taking.

And as much as Stiles would have loved to keep staring, he felt fatigue slowly make its way back to his conscious.

Derek must have noticed when he asked him the second time if he wanted something to drink and Stiles didn’t answer.

“I’ll get your jacket and then we can go, okay?” he said to him, almost in passing, already on the way to the cloakroom. When he returned, he still had that soft smile on his face. He helped Stiles into the jacket, careful to tug his arms in properly, seeing as Stiles was prone to get tangled in the sleeves.

“Did you- was it okay for you?” Derek asked him once they were seated in the car. Stiles nodded, still at odds with the whole stiaution and simultaneously fighting his brain to stop replaying the kiss over and over again.

_Just wait until you’re home, damn it._

“Thank you,” Derek muttered just before Stiles opened his front door.

“What for?”

“Coming with me.”

“Did you think I was gonna say no?”

Derek’s facial expression was an answer in and on its own and it saddened Stiles that Derek still wasn’t comfortable asking for someone to accompany him because he thought he would be overstepping.

“Of course, I came with you. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that for the world.”

Derek’s whole face suddenly lit up. 

“What?” Stiles felt a little scrutinised but was desperately curious what was going through Derek’s head.

“That wasn’t a lie.”

And okay, this version of Derek did things to Stiles’ heart that should be illegal.

“Sure wasn’t, Sourwolf,” Stiles whispered, smiling himself. Because sometimes it was that easy. If it made Derek smile like that, he could bear a bit of embarrassment.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow?” Derek seemed unsure in asking, shy even. Stiles sobered up immediately, almost jumping at the opportunity.

Only when Derek had left and Stiles’ pulse had had time to fully settle, did doubt creep into his head again.

* * *

His father knocked on his door the next morning with a curiosity written all over his face.

“How was your non-date yesterday?”

Stiles buried his head in the pillow.

“That bad?” The sympathetic tone his Dad went for was a little undermined by the grin blatantly obvious in his voice.

“Nooooo,” okay maybe that was more of his hangover talking than his actual brain.

“Come on, son. Tell me what happened and maybe we can make sense of this mess.”

How his Dad knew the mess he was in, was beyond Stiles. The whole explanation took about an hour, where Stiles just let his mouth run on autopilot, word vomiting about his feelings for the Sourwolf and how he thought he had been rejected and now wasn’t sure if that was actually the case.

“You remember, what I always told you? When you were young and trying to help me solve cases?”

“Daaaaad! You told me like so much! How am I supposed to keep track? Just last week, you told me: the peanut butter left at the crime scene is a sure indicator for the guy in the trench coat being the killer because you saw that in a murder mystery that one time.”

His Dad did look a bit sheepish that Stiles remembered how completely out of it he had been after spending two weeks searching for a missing wife and then collapsing on the sofa while a murder mystery had run on the TV.

“Don’t change the subject,” he said gruffly. Stiles rolled his eyes but still whipped in his seat like a child waiting for a treat.

“You said, he- chrm- kissed you three times now, right?” The thought of his son kissing a werewolf didn’t particular sit well with the Sheriff, that much was obvious by the exasperation visible on his face, but then again, who else but Derek would someone like Stiles have fallen for?

“Not really, I mean the first time wasn’t even intentional. It just kinda happened and then, the second time, we were like both high on adrenaline from fighting that Krampus.”

“I won’t even ask how you can unintentionally kiss someone. It’s also not the point I’m trying to make here.”

“Then what-”

But his Dad hushed him with an outstretched hand and continued:

“What did I always tell you when something happens three times?” it still hadn’t dropped in Stiles’ head, but his dead continued anyway.

“One is an accident-”

A firework exploded in Stiles’ brain, mixing all the different colours together to one coherent idea.

His mouth formed the sentence without him making a conscious decision:

“Two is coincidence-”

“And three’s a pattern.” His father completed.

* * *

After the talk with this father, which had simultaneously agitated and soothed him, he, as a last resort, called in help. He kept pacing up and down in his living room, his blood pressure higher than ever, brain running in circles.

He almost missed the knocks on his door, simply because he was so absorbed in his own thought that the outside world had vanished.

Only when someone yelled his name did he snap taught.

“Derek kissed me,” were his first words upon stepping aside to let Lydia, Erica and Allison in.

The collective “what?” followed by three jaws dropping shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

Stiles launched into a long explanation, all the while stumbling over himself in nerves and confusion. After he had finished, he was out of breath, pulse racing so much that Erica glanced at him in worry, every now and then.

Lydia took it upon herself to make an attempt at detangling the gibberish Stiles had just rambled out.

“So, you’re saying that the object of your affection kissed you in the doorway and you not only managed to not reciprocate but also completely ignored that it happened until you were in your car?”

Did the bite in her voice really need to be there? Was that truly necessary? Kicking him when he was down already?

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” Aaand apparently, he had said that one out loud. Great.

“Excuse you! I have a right to be as melodramatic as I want.”

“Sure. Go ahead. But then you don’t get to complain that we didn’t give you any advice.”

He held up his hands in surrender, but rolled his eyes for good measure. Lydia raised a threatening brow at the show of defiance but launched into an explanation anyway. Meanwhile, Allison came back in from the kitchen, carrying four mugs and a pot of hot chocolate that caused Stiles’ mouth to water.

Only when Lydia snapped her fingers in front of his face did he redirect his attention back to her.

“He kissed you on his doorstep and then again after that fight with this godawful creature?”

Stiles nodded confirmation and she continued.

“So, tell us exactly what happened at the party.”

“And don’t hold back on the details this time. I’m still mad at you for not telling me he finally grew the balls to kiss you in the first place.”

“Grew the balls to- do you listen to yourself?”

“Yep.”

Well. Okay then.

“There was this guy- Mark- he asked if I wanted to go outside because Derek had been gone for like half an hour and I wasn’t feeling- I just wanted to get some fresh air and chat, but the guy must have gotten the wrong signal somewhere because before I even know what’s happening, he’s like- leaning in and telling me stuff. And I was just about to tell him to take it easy and fuck off, Derek hauls him back.”

“Uhhhhh,” Allison suddenly let out, followed by a sheepish look and a “sorry, go on.”

“Anyway. So, Derek is staring at the guy, fangs out and all and he’s bullying him into apologising. And I told him- after, you know- I immediately told him that he shouldn’t have done that. And then he uh-” Stiles’ cheeks felt a little warm, he scratched his head.

“He kissed me.”

“Duh.”

Lydia shushed Erica with a motion of her hand at which the wolf growled.

“What was different?” Allison asked, a calculating expression playing on her features.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t call us for the first two times, so, what was different that you called us now?”

“It’s- I don’t know. Just- the first time, I didn’t even realise what happened and the second time it was directly after that fight. He could have died and I- I thought it was the adrenaline but then, today, it just- it was different. The first time, I thought it was an accident but this time, it was deliberate. He leaned in, like really slowly as if he wanted to give me time to move away, you know? I just- I don’t know what to do with that…”

“Talk to him?” It could have come off as sarcastic but the earnest line Lydia’s mouth had formed, told Stiles it wasn’t intended to.

“You think I didn’t do that? I came over and he told me that the first kiss was a mistake, that he didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah no. That’s not what happened,” Erica piped up, looking confused.

And now he was getting seriously pissed off on top of feeling at odds with himself.

“Yeah it is. I drove there and he told me flat out that he didn’t mean it like that. Isaac can vouch for it.”

“That’s not what Derek said to me, though,” her tone didn’t hold any maliciousness or sarcasm. It was the only thing that stopped Stiles from falling into the wave of rage crashing in his stomach from overflooding.

“Then what _did_ he say?” Lydia cut in before the situation could derail any further.

“We we’re just kinda talking, you know? He apologised for kissing me and then he said: I didn’t mean…”

“What didn’t he mean?” Allison jumped on the gap in Stiles’ recapitulation of events. A chandelier lit in Stiles’ head. He had trouble controlling his pulse or his racing heart but his brain ran with the thought.

“He- uh- he didn’t really say.”

 _“Finally!”_ Erica exclaimed loudly, having sensed that Stiles had reached the conclusion she had been pushing her towards the whole time through.

“I’m guessing you just had the aha-moment so we’re not needed any further,” Lydia was already up from the couch when something seemed to cross her mind. She leaned down, pulled him into a tight hug.

“I know what he means to you. I also strongly suspect what you mean to him and you’d be blind not to see it. So, get over there and tell him because- Stilinski- you deserve to have what you want and you’ve wasted enough time not having it.”

Her eyes were a little glassy when she stepped back but the smile was full force and it was genuine.

Erica boxed him in the upper arm and told him to “go get yourself some”.

Allison, always kind in her responses urged him to talk it out before any more kissing occurred. Stiles planned to heed her words, but hey, he was just human and Derek’s lips were unbelievably soft.

* * *

Derek seemed to have put up the lavage Christmas tree that Lydia had picked out. Stiles had it on good authority that Jackson had helped him in the process. It warmed his heart even more to know the bond those two had created with each other.

He didn’t ring the doorbell, just marched inside, determined and still a little bit afraid.

“Stiles? Is everything alright?”

Stiles, completely unable to keep it together any longer, blurted out what he kept safe in his head for the longest time:

“I want to be with you.”

Derek’s jaw dropped quite literally to the floor. It was an adorable sight that had hope blossom in Stiles’ chest.

“You- what?”

“When you kissed me the first time, I didn’t even realise what had happened until I was in the car.”

“What?” His eyebrows drew together, forming the letter v on Derek’s forehead.

“It was just- it didn’t register as something odd because it’s something I wanted for such a long time and it felt natural, you know? Like we’ve done it a thousand times.”

“But-”

Stiles pressed on, adamant to get it all out there because one of them had to take the first step and since Stiles had apparently ignored all his former attempts.

“I know. I know when I came to you, I had that fix idea in my head that you didn’t want me anyway, so, when you said: I didn’t mean, all I heard was: I didn’t mean to kiss you.”

“Stiles.”

“And I’m sorry, for assuming and avoiding you because I thought I had to learn to adjust to you not wanting me.”

 _“Stiles!”_ Derek stopped him with a firm call of his name.

“Sorry.” He felt small, embarrassed and still so, so hopeful. It was an odd mixture.

“Wait here? Just for a minute? I have to get something.”

He came back with a box in his hand and shoved it at Stiles with trembling fingers.

“Open it.”

“But it’s not Christmas yet.”

“Open it.” Stiles still eyed the box critically, so Derek caught his gaze and whispered “please”.

Inside the box was an ornament. One that displayed a large wolf on the front and the words “for my anchor” engraved on the back.

“Derek-” His throat clogged up horribly, his voice was suddenly hoarse, tears burned in his eyes.

“That’s what I was picking out, you know? When you got it in your head, I was dating her.”

“Hu?”

“When you accused me of dating her, I was picking out a present for you and I couldn’t decide, so, she asked me my name and yours and what kind of present I was looking for. That’s what you heard.”

He remembered that day with utmost clarity and felt instantly stupid for assuming what he had.

“Oh.”

But Derek continued, as if on the roll.

“It was for you. The present was for you.”

Stiles would never be able to put into words how his heart ached at even the idea of Derek reciprocating his feelings with such intensity.

“Der-”

_“I wanted to see you smile.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts on the story (or in general) and hope you have a wonderful advent. If you want, you can leave kudos which will be much appreciated.


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